Sin With Caution
by kittenamos
Summary: When Blaine's father walks in on his son making out with Kurt, he freaks and sends Blaine off to a gay conversion camp. Will Kurt be able to find his boyfriend before he is broken beyond repair? Can Kurt keep his boyfriend save? Rated M for different forms of abuse; HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 _Monday_

Blaine was siting on his living room couch with one arm wrapped protectively around his boyfriend, while Kurt rested his head on his shoulder. Blaine had invited Kurt over to his place after school to watch a couple Disney movies. They had just finished watching Kurt's favorite, and were now watching Blaine's choice; 'Tarzan'.

"Why do you like this movie so much?" Kurt asked as 'Son of Man' started to play through the speakers.

"What's not to like? Tarzan is strong and powerful, and an incredible fighter."

"You sound like you have a crush on him," Kurt teased gently. "Should I be jealous?"

Blaine smirked, and leaned down to press a light kiss on his boyfriend's temple. "Oh, trust me. You have nothing to worry about," he whispered in his ear before turning back to the movie. "I did have a huge crush on him growing up, though," he admitted.

"Eww," Kurt joked. "I can just imagine how smelly and sweaty he is, running around in the jungle all day. I mean, his hair is in dreadlocks, which probably means it's just being clumped together by mud and dirt."

"Yeah, and what's so great about 'The Little Mermaid'?" Blaine joked back, remembering Kurt's movie choice and gave the boy a small squeeze. "Prince Eric married a human and fish hybrid."

"What's wrong with Eric?" Kurt asked, ignoring the hybrid remark and lifted his head away from Blaine's shoulder to look at him. "He's cute."

Blaine let out a soft chuckle. "Should _I_ be jealous now?"

Kurt just grinned at him and reached a hand up to glide his fingertips lightly below his boyfriend's gelled hairline. "You know, you kind of look like him."

"Like Eric?"

The song was just drifting to a close as Kurt leaned forward to connect his lips with Blaine's. He quickly returned his boyfriend's affection and moved to cup Kurt's face with one hand. Slowly pushing Blaine backwards onto the couch, Kurt stretched over him to continue the kiss. Blaine felt Kurt's tongue swiftly sweep against his lower lip and immediately responded by opening his mouth, granting him entrance.

A few sharp sounds of gunfire exploded from the movie that was still playing in the background, but the couple ignored it as Blaine let out a happy moan as their tongues touched and Kurt moved to straddle him.

Clayton could be heard getting off a few more shots on screen and a loud bang of a door slamming shut was heard somewhere off in the distance, but to Blaine all that matter at that moment was the boy laying on top of him.

One second, Blaine was enjoying the feeling of Kurt making out with him, and the next, the boy was suddenly ripped from his body. Blaine was just able to catch a glimpse of his father standing over him, before Kurt was pushed roughly back. A loud smack echoed around the room as the back of the boy's head hit the wall; hard.

"Kurt!" Blaine cried out, bolting up on the couch. Fear tore through his chest as he watched his boyfriend slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, a hand pressed against the back of his head.

"You disgusting faggot!" his father screamed. Turning his back to Blaine, the man approached Kurt who was still sprawled on the ground. "You stay away from my boy!"

His father had already made it over to Kurt and was lifting the boy up by his collar before Blaine could get to his feet. The man clutched a fist and prepared to send it into the boy's face until–

"Dad, stop!" Blaine shrieked, gripping his father's fisted arm as tightly as he could.

In response, the man jabbed his arm back, sending an elbow into Blaine's upper chest causing him to stumble back.

"I'll handle this, Blaine. There is only one way to deal with these kinds of people."

By now, Kurt had gotten his bearings back and was staring up in sheer terror at the man that was blocking his path.

"I kissed him back!" Blaine screamed, praying that it would get his father to back off. "He wasn't forcing anything on me! I wanted him to!"

A wave of relief flowed through Blaine as he watched his father's back stiffen in hesitation, but the solace didn't last long.

The look his father sent him floored Blaine. The ice-cold stare was filled with nothing but disgust and hatred towards his son . . . and he still had Kurt roughly pushed up against the wall.

Fear seeped through Blaine's veins. He wanted to turn and run. Run until his legs ached, and his heart was hammering fiercely in his chest. Anything to get away from that look his own father was shooting at him . . . but he couldn't.

Blaine's eyes locked onto Kurt's. His father had such a strong grip around the boy's collar that Blaine could tell Kurt was struggling a little to breathe, and he was starting to squirm uncomfortably against the wall.

Blaine forced himself to hold his ground. He had to stay, at least long enough to help get Kurt out of his predicament.

Taking a shaky breath, Blaine forced himself to meet his father's eyes again. "I-I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he stated, hating the fact that his voice was shaking, "but Kurt is my b-boyfriend, dad." He paused, trying to draw in the courage to finally say the words out loud to his father. "I'm g-gay."

In the silence that followed, Blaine could hear Jane screaming on the TV behind him as she and Tarzan flew through the jungle trying desperately to outwit the herd of baboons that were chasing them, but that seemed trivial compared to the icy glare his father was now piercing right through him. Blaine could almost hear the wheels spinning inside his father's head as he fought to come to terms with the new information that his son had just thrown at him.

"Dad, it's still me. I–" Blaine began as he took a step forward, desperately wanting that look on his father's face to disappear, but it was pointless to try and fix anything now.

Dropping his grip on Kurt, his father finally turned his glare away from his disappointment of a son. "Say goodbye to your _friend_ , and then meet me in my office," the man practically growled between his teeth, and then stormed out of the room, not looking back.

Blaine waited until his father was out of sight before leaping at Kurt, and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked. He could feel the boy shivering in his arms and the feeling of moisture on his neck told him that Kurt was crying.

"I-I think so. I just–" A sob tore through Kurt, not allowing him to continue and Blaine held him tighter.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so so sorry," he whispered into his boyfriend's ear, rocking him slightly back-and-forth before pulling away just enough that he could rest his forehead against his. Blaine brought a hand up to lightly brush away Kurt's tears. "I had no idea he was going to react like that."

Kurt quickly nodded his head. Blaine could still read the fear in his eyes. He knew that Kurt's body was going into flight mode.

"I-I should go. Your father said he wanted to talk to you . . ." Kurt sniffled. Pulling away from Blaine, he started to head in the direction of the front door, but Blaine grabbed his arm holding him back.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive? I could–" Blaine was about to offer him a ride home, but Kurt shook his head before he could.

"I-I'm fine, Blaine. Really. We don't want to make your father any angrier."

Blaine simply nodded his head in understanding, and proceeded to follow his boyfriend to the front door, stopping briefly to pause the movie on the way.

"Hey," Blaine rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder, stopping him before he could reach for the door handle. Blaine's heart clenched as he watched a few lonely tears appear at the corners of his boyfriend's eyes and started to run down his cheeks. "Text me when you get home, okay? Let me know you made it?" he said softly.

Kurt simply nodded in response, before Blaine leaned in to give his boyfriend a short kiss on the lips.

* * *

Blaine hesitated outside of his father's closed office door. He was not looking forward to this conversation at all. He felt lightheaded and his legs were trembling. He had to lean against the wall and take a few calming breathes before he could reassure himself that he wasn't going to pass out.

When he felt stable enough, he knocked lightly on the door and waited to hear a response from inside before sluggishly entering the room.

His father was feverishly typing on his keyboard when Blaine walked in. "Sit," he barked, not taking his eyes from his computer screen.

Heart pounding, Blaine slowly sank into one of the available chairs placed in front of his fathers massive mahogany desk.

"Dad, look . . . I know this has probably come as quite a shock to you but–" Blaine started, hoping to talk his dad down before he began yelling again.

"You're not gay," his father spoke up firmly, interrupting him.

Blaine blinked in surprise at his father's abruptness. "Yes, I am."

"No, you're not," he spoke slowly, finally raising his eyes from his computer screen. "You are just confused."

Blaine sighed. "I'm not confused, dad. I know how I feel."

"No son of mine is going to by gay," the man spat, turning back to type something else into the computer. "We'll get you help. There is a camp not far from here; 'Path of Restoration'."

Blaine paused in shock as the news of what his father had just said sank in. "You're sending me to a straight camp?"

"For gay conversion therapy," his father explained, refusing to look at his son. "I'm signing you up right now."

"But there is nothing wrong with me!" Blaine cried in desperation. "Just because I like boys doesn't mean that I have some sort of disease or mental issue."

"Being gay is not normal!" his dad yelled back, the stone hard glare was back on his face. "It's not natural!"

"But I don't want to leave my friends . . . and the Glee club! Sectionals is coming up soon. They need me!"

His father raised an eyebrow, understanding growing on his face. "Kurt . . . That's why you begged me to let you transfer out of Dalton, isn't it? You wanted to be closer to that boy!"

Blaine gulped at the evil scowl his father turned on him. His silence was all the answer the man needed.

"This is for your own good, son. You will thank me for this later."

"But dad–"

"No! My decision is final," his father growled.

As his father turned back to his work, Blaine took it as a sign for him to leave. On stiff legs, he pushed himself out of the chair and started to head for the door.

"Wait," his father barked, and Blaine felt his body shutter. "Give me your phone."

"Dad?"

"I don't want you texting that boy tonight. You're not going to be allowed to have it at camp anyways."

With a heavy heart, Blaine pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and gently set it on the edge of his father's desk.

"Now, go pack. You're leaving first thing in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _Monday Continued_

Kurt's hands wouldn't stop shaking. Needing to focus on the road in front of him, he tried his best to hold back the flood of tears that kept threatening to escape at any moment. He gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands, trying to push the memories of Blaine's father to the back of his mind.

Kurt knew he had to make it home before his body completely broke down on him.

He thought he was finally gaining some control over his emotions when an angry image of Mr. Anderson flashed behind his eyes. The man's face had only been about a foot away from his own face during the episode.

He remembered being yanked away from his boyfriend, only to be shoved roughly up against the wall. Pain had soared through the back of his head, causing him to see lights. His legs had suddenly felt like jelly and he allowed his abruptly injured body to sink to the ground. He had felt someone hauling him back to his feet, but the pain in his head had been making him feel dizzy. It wasn't until he heard Blaine yelling in the background that he had forced his eyes to focus back on what was going on around him.

The feeling of Blaine's father gripping the front of his collar was the first thing he had been able to register clearly. His hold had been so tight that Kurt had felt the sharp joints of a few of the man's fingers jabbing into his throat.

Kurt slowly reached a hand up to touch the area where Mr. Anderson's fingers had dug into his skin. His throat still felt sore from his rough hold.

And the man's other hand had been displayed in a firm fist right in front of his eyes. There was not a doubt in Kurt's mind that if Blaine hadn't stepped in when he did, Mr. Anderson really would have hit him. But that thought wasn't what had had him fixed in complete terror.

The thing that had frightened Kurt the most during the whole scene was the look in the man's eyes as he had berated him. The look of sheer hatred towards him could be read all over his face. As Mr. Anderson had stared back into his petrified expression, the man's intense stare had sent a painful twist into his stomach, like the sharp point of a knife digging deeper and deeper–

 _Brrrrrmp . . . brrrrrmp . . . brrrrrmp . . ._

Kurt's head snapped up when vibrations started ringing up from the tires that were bobbling up and down in the rumble strip as the car had gradually began to drift towards the right-hand shoulder of the highway. He hadn't even realized he had closed his eyes while trying to force the bad memories away.

Kurt slammed his foot down on the brake and glided the automobile to a stop on the side of the road. Staring, shell-shocked, out the front window, Kurt's knuckles were turning white as he clutched the steering wheel in a death grip as a fresh stream of tears began to roll down his face. A new set of terrifying images was now taking over his mind, this time of his car ramming straight into a tree or having his vehicle cartwheeling down an incline.

Slipping the driving stick into park without even a glance, Kurt leaned forward in his seat to rest his forehead against the steering wheel, desperately trying to get his breathing under control.

He was quickly starting to regret not taking Blaine up on his offer for a ride. Things with Blaine's father probably would have ended up worse for his boyfriend if he had, but right then Kurt really wished that he was with him.

Focusing on his breathing, Kurt waited until his flow of tears had stopped again before raising his head. Knowing he would need something to help keep his mind occupied in order to make it home undamaged, Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket, plugged it in to his USB cord, and set his songs on shuffle. A comforting sigh left his lips as the familiar first notes of 'Teenage Dream' filled the car, and he carefully pulled back into traffic.

* * *

Safely pulling into his driveway almost half an hour later, Kurt slid the gear stick back into park and laid his head against the headrest, fresh tears pooling behind his eyes.

His dad was home. Burt's dark red truck was sitting next to his in front of the house. The music had definitely helped, but knowing that he would have to face his father now brought all the anxiety back.

He had to get a grip on his emotions before he went inside. If his dad saw him like this, he would demand answers. He would want to know what happened, and Kurt wasn't ready to talk about it.

Honestly, he didn't think he ever would be.

It had been Blaine's father. His boyfriend's dad had yelled at him, called him a _faggot_ , and attacked him.

Knowing Burt, Kurt knew that if he even got the slightest hint that Blaine's father wasn't treating him right, he would certainly take matters into his own hands.

After checking his bloodshot eyes in the mirror behind the sun visor and blowing his nose into a napkin he found in the center console, Kurt took a shaky breath before gathering his stuff together and made his way towards the front door.

Pushing the door open a few inches, Kurt hesitated on the threshold trying to get an idea from the noise coming from inside on where everyone was. He could hear a game playing on the TV in the living room. Seconds later came the shouts of both Finn and his dad, expressing happy reactions to whatever was happening on the screen.

Swinging the door wider, Kurt stepped into the house.

"That you, Kurt?" his father called over Finn's excitement.

"Yeah, dad," he answered, hoping his voice sounded steady enough. "I'm going upstairs to work on some homework."

"Okay," came the reply. "Did you eat at Blaine's house? Carole is picking up some pizza on her way home if you want some."

"Sure," Kurt said, and quickly darted upstairs before his father could question him any further about his boyfriend.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Kurt leaned back against it. Closing his eyes, he used his thumbs to rub circles around his temples hoping to draw away some of the pain from the headache that was beginning to form behind his eyes and took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get his legs to stop trembling.

It had been a very emotional afternoon, and he could feel the stress starting to take its toll on his body. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he pushed himself away from the door and flopped onto his bed.

Kurt had just enough energy left to send a quick text to Blaine letting him know he made it home unscathed before falling into a much-needed nap.

* * *

Kurt woke almost an hour later to a knock at his door.

"Yeah," he asked sleepily, raising his head from his pillow.

"Pizza's here," Finn's voice drifted in from the other side of the door. The strong cheesy aroma suddenly wafted into the room from downstairs confirming the statement, and Kurt heard his stomach growl in anticipation.

Kurt pushed himself up into a sitting position on his bed and rubbed the crust from his eyes. "Be right down," he said, stifling a yawn and listened as Finn's heavy footsteps receded back down the staircase.

He was up and heading towards his bedroom door when he froze. Memories of what had happened at Blaine's house came flooding back into his head.

Remembering that he had texted Blaine before falling asleep, Kurt quickly turned back to retrieve his phone from his bedside table and frowned at the lack of a response from his boyfriend. It wasn't like Blaine to go this long without texting him back.

Not thinking much of it, Kurt sent him another quick message before tossing the device onto his bed. He then paused in front of his vanity table just long enough to check and make sure his hair looked okay after his nap, before hurrying down to the kitchen for dinner.

 _Hey, Blaine. You okay? What did your dad say?_

* * *

 _Tuesday_

Blaine sat in the back seat of his father's jet-black Buick, his hands clasped tightly together in his lap as he stared blankly out the window. A huge duffel bag lay across the seat to his left along with a fully packed trunk, which was filled with anything and everything his parents thought he would need during his three month stay at 'Path of Restoration'.

He had heard the horror stories of gay conversion camps from his old friend, Colin, with whom he had gone to the Sadie Hawkins dance with freshmen year. Although Colin's parents had never actually done it, they had threatened for months to send him to a conversion camp, too. Desperate for information on what exactly his parents were threatening him with, his friend had looked up a similar camp online. From what he had told Blaine, the stories were awful. It made him wonder if his parents truly knew what they were sending him in to.

As their car sped down the interstate, Blaine tried not to think about what was going to happen over the next couple of months.

He wished he could have sent a quick text to Kurt before handing over his cell phone yesterday. The idea of his boyfriend waiting for him, right now, by his school locker like he would do every morning, caused Blaine's stomach to twist uncomfortably into knots. A tear rolled down his face when he thought about not getting to see the boy he loved over the next several weeks.

Pure dread crept down Blaine's spine in a cold shiver as his father slowed the car down in preparation to make the turn into the camp's parking lot, and drove under an arch announcing its name in huge blue letters.

It felt like his stomach was full of lead, his feet were set in concrete, and his mind sat worryingly empty in an unproductive fuzz, while his heart was beating as if it would rather just stop in his chest.

Blaine's father pulled the car to a stop in an open parking spot close to the office building. Stepping out, Blaine leaned over far enough to reach his old duffle and tugged it closer to him. He got the strap situated on one shoulder before slamming the door and heading back to meet his dad to grab another bag from the trunk.

Hoisting a couple bags onto his shoulders, the man turned to glance down at Blaine. "Place doesn't look too bad, does it?"

Blaine simply shrugged. It wasn't the look of the place that he had been worried about. It was how the counselors and other people that worked there were going to treat him that bothered him, but there was no use in trying to explain this to his father.

Shutting the trunk with a soft thump, Blaine glared at his father's back as he walked with a slight bounce in his step in the direction of the entrance to the office building. Blaine frowned at the contrasting emotions that his dad was expressing this morning compared to his own, and was perplexed on how the man could feel so good about the idea of dumping his own child in a place like this.

"Hurry up, Blaine! I don't have all day," his father called over his shoulder, before disappearing inside the structure.

Scanning the neighboring fields around the campus, Blaine tried to determine where exactly he was. He considered trying to make a run for it, but there were no landmarks that he recognized. He was apparently out in the middle of nowhere.

With no other options, Blaine let out a heavy sigh before sluggishly following after his dad into the building he had just entered.

Letting go of the door, he allowed it to swing closed behind him and instantly spied his father standing in front of a desk talking to a woman who appeared to be the secretary. Blaine was only able to make out snippets of the conversation as his dad flipped through a small stack of paperwork he needed to go through in order to sign Blaine in.

"Set your bags down in the corner," the woman explained, raising her voice so Blaine could hear the command and pointed towards the side of the room where the rest of his stuff had already been set. Following her instructions, Blaine set down his luggage before heading over to stand next to his dad.

According to the nameplate that sat on the desk, the woman behind the counter was Amelia Banks.

"Well," the woman said once his father had passed the stack of papers back to her. She sent Blaine a bright smile that didn't seem to reach her eyes. The look made his skin crawl. "Why don't I give the two of you a quick tour of our campus, and I can answer any questions you may have?"

"Sure," Blaine's father said, answering for his son and then nodded towards the pile of suitcases. "What about the bags?"

"Leave them," Amelia said, making her way around the desk. "Someone will deliver them to your son's room for you."

Amelia gestured towards the door, and Blaine waited to let the two of them pass before following them back outside. They then turned to the right to head farther on to the campus.

Six rectangular structures that appeared an awful lot like trailer houses resting on the ground, were laid out in a semicircle around a grey cement tiled area that was shaped like a rough circle. Horizontal white paneling decorated the outside of each structure. On the far side of the tiled floor, another path broke off from the area and appeared to be wrapping back behind the trailer park houses.

"That is our student lounge," Amelia announced, pointing in the direction of the white structure that lay the closest to the office building. "The other five are housing for the campers. Each one includes two bathrooms and ten bedrooms. One boy, obviously, per room." The last comment was clearly directed towards Blaine's father for reassurance.

"What are those?" Blaine asked, pointing at three structures that sat side-by-side on the opposite side of the student housing units. Their lack of visible windows and cold cement walls gave them an eerie feel.

Amelia hesitated in answering, giving the buildings a good stare before finally responding. "Storage space, mostly."

Blaine frowned at the explanation, but decided not to question her further.

Half hidden behind the last two houses in the semicircle was a bright red brick square shaped building with two floors.

"Our Church is over there," Amelia continued, pointing off towards the main road that led up towards the campgrounds. Peeling his gaze off the colorful building laying right in front of him, Blaine turned his head to take note of the chapel she was talking about, before returning his attention back to the structure they had been walking towards. "And this is our Rec Center."

Opening the door for them, Amelia led them inside, giving them a quick tour of the different rooms and activities available to the boys. A small office laid to the left of the entrance and the staircase leading up to the second floor was on the right, which they ignored for now.

A spacious sitting area lay right in front of them, with huge glass windows along the back wall allowing in the natural sunlight. Before entering the lounge, the structure broke off into two hallways.

"The cafeteria is down that way," she said, pointing to the hallway to the left. The distant sounds of chatter, and pots and pans clanging together helped verify her directions. Amelia turned and lead them down the hallway to the right. Coming across another door, she said, "The locker room is right through there. You have to walk through the lockers to get the indoor pool." She pointed out a few of their workers' offices along one wall before turning to head back towards the foyer. "A wide range of gym and exercise equipment is available upstairs, along with a couple rooms reserved for group meetings. There is even a small movie theater up there."

As Amelia, Blaine, and his father pushed their way back through the front doors and into the sunlight, Blaine couldn't help but feel puzzled. At first glance, this place didn't seem that bad. It looked pretty nice, to be honest.

Nice looking lounge . . .

A pool . . .

Movie Theater . . .

"See? I told you this place wouldn't be that bad," his father exclaimed, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing just a little too tightly.

This didn't seem at all like what his Sadie Hawkins date had described. Blaine couldn't help but feel like what he was currently seeing was an elaborate mask to cover up the horror that had to be going on here.

It wasn't just the setup of the camp that felt wrong either. It wasn't until they started making their way back across the courtyard that Blaine realized what it was that was bothering him so much.

The place appeared to be deserted. Besides for the few adults he had seen moving around in the office rooms and the clashing noises of workers in the kitchen, Blaine hadn't seen or heard a single person on the grounds.

"Where is everyone?"

"We hold a mandatory prayer service every morning that lasts a couple hours. All the boys are at the Church right now," she explained.

"Prayer service?" Blaine asked.

"Prayer services begin bright and early every morning." Amelia nodded as they reentered the office building. "Group meetings take place in the afternoons, and the boys have free time in the evenings before going to bed."

Just as Amelia was finishing up her explanation of the day-to-day schedule, a tall man dressed in tan pants and a light blue polo shirt stepped out of the back room. The man had a muscular build to him, which, combined with the intense look he shot Blaine's way, compelled him to take a step back in alarm. 'Path of Restoration' was imprinted on the polo shirt's upper left side in an arch shape.

"Do either of you have any more questions for me?" Amelia asked.

A short silence followed as Blaine stared, bewildered, at the new man in the polo shirt.

Taking Blaine's silence as a sign of having nothing further to ask, his father spoke up for him. "I think we're good."

"Great!" Amelia sent them one of her bright smiles before finally turning to introduce their new guest. "This is Dave Karofsky. He is one of our camp counselors. David," she called to the man over her shoulder. The man approached without saying a word. "This is Blaine Anderson. He's going to be starting his treatment this week." Karofsky gave a slight nod in recognition, his lips plastered in a thin line. "Why don't you show our new member to his room? Let him get settled in."

Blaine didn't know what, but something about the man was making his body start to tremble again, and his piercing black stare wasn't helping his now racing heartbeat.

"Sure, Mrs. Banks," Karofsky replied in a deep voice, his eyes never straying from Blaine's. A brief smirk flashed across his face before disappearing again, and Blaine shivered uncomfortably. Any possible reassuring thoughts he had had over staying at the camp after the tour had instantly vanished. "Come with me." Finally peeling his icy glare away from Blaine, the man turned and started to head for the door expecting him to follow.

Blaine turned around expecting to see his luggage still piled up in the corner, but it had disappeared. "My bags?"

Amelia followed his line of sight. "Someone must have collected them already. They should be in your room."

Not fully comfortable with idea of walking off alone with Dave, Blaine sent one last pleading look towards his father.

"Go," his dad barked. "I'll be back to pick you up in a few months."

Anxiety gripping his heart, Blaine hesitantly approached Karofsky who was waiting for him by the door. Drawing closer, the man pushed the door open for him, allowing Blaine to exit before him.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them as Blaine started to head in the direction of the housing units. He could feel Karofsky's stare piercing into his back the whole time. It wasn't long before he slapped a hand on to Blaine's shoulder, causing him to jump, and began to steer him roughly in the direction he wanted him to go.

As they passed by the building Amelia had said was the student lounge, Blaine noticed the wooden sign tacked up to the right of the door for the first time, identifying it. Drawing closer to the next couple of units, he noticed that each one seemed to have a sign on it. 'A' was attached on the second one they passed. Karofsky steered him closer to the third structure, labeled with a 'B'.

"What did you think of the tour?" Karofsky suddenly asked, when he paused them in front of the door so he could retrieve something from his pocket. He kept his hand firmly on Blaine's shoulder as if he was worried he was going to attempt to make a run for it.

Blaine shrugged. "The Rec Center looked nice," he said, hoping the man didn't notice the slight quiver in his voice.

"I attended this camp myself when I was about your age," Karofsky continued, pulling out a set of keys and moving around Blaine to slide one into the lock.

Blaine blinked in surprise at that. "You're gay?"

Karofsky roughly pushed Blaine through the now opened door. He spied the two open rooms on the left that appeared to be the bathrooms Amelia had mentioned, before Dave steered him down the hallway to the right were all the rooms seemed to be.

"I had homosexual thoughts during high school," Karofsky said, almost sounding angry. He brought them to a stop in front of a door with the number '3' marked on it. "This place fixed me straight."

Karofsky slid another key into the door before shoving Blaine into the open room beyond. His feet stumbled across the carpet as he attempted to keep his balance.

The first thing Blaine noticed about the space was how dark it was. There were no windows in the room, and there didn't appear to be any other source of light. The ignited glow streaming in from the hallway was his only source to see by.

Not much was in the eight by eleven sized room. A sheetless and slightly lumpy mattress was placed on the floor in one corner. The pillow that rested at the foot of it looked almost flat, and a thin cotton blanket lay crumpled on the sad looking bed. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a simple looking wooden chair. His luggage wasn't even in the room.

The elaborate cover-up that had been presented to them for his father's benefit was already disintegrating. He had a horrible feeling that the look of his living quarters was just the beginning of the many horrific surprises that awaited him over the next weeks.

"Rest up, Tinker Bell," Karofsky mocked from the doorway, and Blaine spun around to face him. "The fun will start tomorrow."

The door slammed shut behind him. Blaine stood frozen in the middle of the room, listening, as the lock clicked back into place, and the heavy set of footsteps receded back down the hallway.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _Tuesday Continued_

Kurt sat cross-legged on the floor in the school hallway, right beside his boyfriend's locker. His phone rested cupped in his hands as he stared at the screen with a stealthily growing mixture of both concern and anxiety.

Blaine still hadn't texted him back by the time he had gotten into bed last night. Considering how upset his father had been, Kurt had figured that Blaine just needed a little space to talk things out with his dad.

But when he reached for his phone that morning, his usual 'Good morning' text from his boyfriend wasn't waiting for him. He had expected to at least get an apology for not responding back to him last night, but there was nothing.

Now, Kurt was really starting to worry.

After quickly running through his morning skin care routine and throwing on the clothes he had laid out for himself the night before, he grabbed his backpack and flew down the staircase. At his father's call for him to stop in the kitchen for something to eat, Kurt reassured him that he was going to stop by the coffee house to grab something and ran out the door to his car.

He hadn't stopped at the Lima Bean.

Kurt's stomach was doing flips the whole ride to school. There was no way he would have been able to keep anything down anyways. As for coffee, he was already wide-awake and fidgety. He knew that adding caffeine to the mix would be a terrible idea.

He just had to get to school. He knew that once he saw Blaine, all of his pent up tension could finally be released. He would also be sure to go berserk on him, causing him to worry so much. He just had to see him.

Kurt arrived at school a half hour earlier than he usually did, and once he retrieved his books from his own locker, had planted himself down next to Blaine's to wait.

Several of his friends from Glee club shouted a quick 'Hello' to him as they passed him in the hall. Each one, he would give an acknowledged nod to before either turning back to stare at the front entrance or would go back his phone.

With ever minute that ticked by with no sign of Blaine, Kurt could feel his fear growing.

"Kurt?"

At the familiar voice of his stepbrother, Kurt raised his head and nodded at him in greeting. Mercedes was close behind him.

"Why'd you storm out so fast this morning?" Finn was asking. "It wasn't like you were running late."

"Have either of you heard anything from Blaine?" Kurt questioned, ignoring him.

Finn frowned. "Not since yesterday. Why?"

"He's not here yet?" Mercedes added.

Kurt shook his head and turned back to his phone. "I haven't heard anything from him since I left his house last night."

Overhead, the kids heard the ringing of the first bell, warning everyone that they had five minutes to get to their classrooms.

Mercedes stepped closer to Kurt and offered him her hand to help him up from the floor. "I'm sure everything's okay," she tried to reassure him. "He probably just over slept this morning."

"Come on, man," Finn said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to be late for class if we don't hurry."

With a sigh, Kurt retrieved his bag from the floor and allowed his stepbrother to guide him down the hallway towards the first period class they shared together, and away from Mercedes.

Kurt desperately wanted to believe his friends, but every time he closed his eyes a flash of Mr. Anderson's devilish glare shot through his memory and a sheering pain twisted in his gut like a dagger. Blaine's father had been so furious with them. He was sure something terrible had happened to his boyfriend after he had left his house.

But his father wouldn't have hurt him . . . Right?

* * *

Blaine stood, staring at the door in bewilderment before awkwardly stumbling forward in the dark. He fell against the door and fearfully ran his fingers along the surface searching blindly for the doorknob. Grasping it in both hands, Blaine jiggled the knob back-and-forth to no avail.

He really was locked in.

Blaine spun around, glancing wildly around his gloomy room. The outlines of different forms was just starting to come into focus as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. A thin strip of light seeped through the bottom crack in the door, casting eerie shadows along the floor.

Blinking back tears, Blaine walked in the direction that he knew the mattress was located in and sat down, hugging his knees to his chest.

He did his best to ignore the occasional creak and moan of the building as it would settle around him, but in the darkness, every sound seemed to echo and bounce around the walls.

A few times he could have sworn he heard footsteps running up and down the hallway outside his little room, but he never heard any voices accompanying them.

At one point, he heard the sound of the lock opening. Snapping his head up, he squinted as the bright light from the hallway poured into his quarters. The lights caused a weird halo appearance around the figure. It took his eyes a couple seconds to begin to adjust and be able to make out the Latino woman who was standing in the doorway staring back at him. The woman said something in Spanish and held her hand out towards him. Only then did Blaine realize that she had not come to him empty handed.

Pushing himself up onto unstable legs, he forced his body to move the few steps he needed to reach the open door and retrieved the plastic, lime green bowl from her and gazed down into its contents.

Oatmeal?

He caught a shadow moving out of the corner of his eyes and looked up just in time to watch the woman stepping back out to close the door.

"Thank you . . ." he managed to get out, before hearing the lock being reengaged on the other side.

He had never much cared for the taste of oatmeal, but his stomach had been in knots that morning and he hadn't been able to eat anything. His stomach growled at the prospect of lunch and he settled himself back down on the mattress to force some of the gooey substance down his throat. He managed to get about half of the meal down before his stomach grew nauseous and the slimy aftertaste in his mouth was no longer tolerable.

* * *

Blaine lost track of how long he had been curled up on the rotting mattress.

On some level, he knew that this was all part of their plan. They wanted him scared. They wanted him weak. They wanted him defenseless. If he was going to get out of this and back home to Kurt, he had to keep his head straight and not let this place mess with him.

A few tears escaped and started to run down his cheeks.

The only thing that seemed to give him any since of comfort was thinking about his boyfriend. Hiding his face in his knees, Blaine closed his eyes and allowed an image of Kurt to grow in his mind.

His chestnut, wavy hair was the first feature that came to Blaine. It was always so soft to run his hands through. His boyfriend's beautiful, grayish-blue eyes were so full of hope and life, and his pale skin was always so clean and bright due to his religiously performed morning and evening skin care rituals. It really was like porcelain.

A soft sob escaped Blaine's lips as the sound of the lock being released reached his ears again. He waited until he heard the screak of the hinges, verifying that the door had been opened, before slowly raising his head to make out the hazy image of Karofsky blocking the opening.

"Get up," the man barked. "It's time for you to meet some of the other boys."

* * *

The lounge building presented a wide-open floor plan. On one side of the rectangle shaped layout, a decent sized flat screen TV was mounted against the wall. It was by far the nicest and most expensive thing in the space.

A slightly worn couch and a few chairs were arranged in a 'U' shape around the TV. Several tables of different sizes and shapes were spread out around the rest of the open space. A faded light blue carpet covered the floor. Two bookcases rested side-by-side against one wall; DVDs, video games, books, and board games were stacked and arranged on the shelves.

Half a dozen teenage boys were currently spread out around the room. Blaine spied the backs of two heads sitting on the couch, each one sitting on opposites ends of the piece of furniture. One kid with dirty blonde, frizzy hair sat reading a book at one of the tables, while the other three were gathered around another playing one of the board games. Three men wearing light blue polo shirts with the camps logo on them where stationed around the room, their watchful eyes viciously scanning the room for any trouble.

Something felt off about the environment, and a shiver ran up Blaine's spine as he pondered over what the issue was. Knowing he was going to be sent back to his dungeon of a room in a matter of hours, he did his best to shake off the weird feelings and walked over to the bookcases to see if he could find something to help occupy his morbid sense of freedom.

Knowing the TV was currently being used, Blaine gave a quick scan over the available DVDs for future reference and raised an eyebrow at the selection.

'Fight Club' . . .

'Die Hard' . . .

'The Lord of the Rings' . . .

'Braveheart' . . .

'Rocky' . . .

'Gladiator' . . .

There wasn't a single musical on the shelf. In retrospect, this probably shouldn't have surprised him, but now being faced with the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to watch some of his favorite movies during his stay here caused his heart to drop in his chest. The books and video game collections weren't much better.

Turning away from the offending shelves, Blaine approached one of the empty tables and took a seat. With his eyes, he did another sweep of the room. A shock of realization surged through his body when he suddenly realized what had been bothering him when he first walked in.

In Blaine's experience, whenever several teenage boys got together, things usually got pretty loud and chaotic. If nothing else, happy chatter and boys yelling to try to be heard over one another should be surrounding him, but nothing even remotely like that was happening here.

Blaine studied the faces of the three boys gathered around the board game set in the middle of their table. Each of them donned subdued expressions. Keeping their heads down, they rarely looked up from their game. Any conversing between the three was kept low and soft.

"Hey," a voice spoke up, and Blaine turned to find the frizzy haired kid looking down at him. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, keeping his voice low like the other boys were.

Blaine simply nodded his head and turned to look down at the table. Using his fingers, he began to trace the designs on the wood.

He heard a soft scrapping noise as the kid set something down on the table. Glancing up just enough to see what the kid was doing, Blaine watched as he lifted the lid off a box that was labeled 'Checkers'.

"You're new here," the kid said. The way he said it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Blaine nodded. "How'd you know?" he asked, matching the boy's tone.

Ignoring the question, the kid turned the box over, dumping all the chips out onto the table and prepared to set up the game.

"I'm not really in the mood to play a game," Blaine responded softly, not wanting to hurt the guy's feelings.

The boy sent him a look before nodding in the direction of one of the uniformed men in the room. "It's a rule here. If you are going to be talking to another boy you have to be _'otherwise engaged'_ in some other activity," he explained using air quotes. "I'm Jeremiah," he introduced himself, holding his hand out in greeting.

"Blaine," he said, returning the gesture before getting to work setting up his half of the game board.

"So, are you a Cognitive gay or an Active?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him in question, and Jeremiah let out a low chuckle.

"That's what they call it in the group meetings," he explained. "Cognitive gays have the thoughts, but haven't acted on them yet."

Blaine shook his head. "I have a boyfriend," he noted, making his first move on the board. "How long have you been here?"

Jeremiah shrugged. "I don't know for sure. You tend to lose track of time here." He moved one of his pieces forward. "A week, maybe."

"How are things here? Is there . . . I mean, they don't . . ." Blaine started, but he couldn't force himself to finish the question.

His new friend was silent for a couple turns, and Blaine was starting to think he was going to ignore the question when he spoke up again.

"You'll find out soon enough." Jeremiah sighed. "They keep you busy most of the day."

Blaine frowned. "Amelia told me the camps schedule during the tour. It sounded pretty laid back."

He shook his head. "She leaves a lot of stuff out." He let out another sigh before beginning. "Everyone has to wake up at 5:30 in the morning and be at the church by 6:00 for prayer. That usually lasts around four to five hours." He ignored the look of surprise Blaine flashed him and continued. "Then there's lunch at noon. The events in the afternoon change depending on the day between group meetings, chores, and . . . Aversion Therapy," he explained, lowering his voice considerable by the end.

A shiver ran up Blaine's spine at the tone in his voice and decided not to ask for more details at the moment.

They sat in silence for awhile, both focusing their full attention on the game in front of them when a thought slipped into Blaine's mind.

"Hey," he started, and waited until Jeremiah glanced up at him. "Amelia said someone was supposed to deliver my luggage to my room. Do you know what–"

"They're probably still searching through it," he interrupted, moving another piece forward before mumbling a low "King me" between his lips.

Blaine set one of the red pieces he had removed from the game board during its duration on top of the mentioned piece. "What do you mean?"

"There is a long list of things you aren't allowed to have at camp." He shrugged. "They check everybody's luggage, and throw away the _inappropriate stuff_ , before delivering them to people's rooms."

"Like what?"

"No technology is allowed. So, any cell phones, tablets, or laptops will be taken away. Any personal items like photos of family and friends, jewelry, magazines that they deem as being _too gay_ –"

"My 'Vogue' collection?" Blaine's eyes widened. Not to mention his photos of his boyfriend . . .

Jeremiah nodded. "Same thing with clothes. If they find anything they consider to be too feminine or _'gay'_ , you won't find it in your bags when you get them back," he explained, using air quotes again.

Outfits that he had packed himself started to flash through Blaine's head. How much of it would make it past the counselor's eyes and be deemed worthy for him to keep? And his bowties!

"And your hair gel," Jeremiah continued, gesturing towards Blaine's hair. Blaine ran a hand through his gelled locks in confusion. "Yeah, you're not going to be getting that back either."

Their game temporarily forgotten, Blaine's mouth gaped open at the news and he could feel his eyes growing wide in shock. He hadn't been without his hair gel since freshmen year, around the time of the Sadie Hawkins dance.

He blinked back his surprise when relation drifted over him. "That's how you knew I was new here? My hair is still gelled."

Jeremiah nodded slowly and studied Blaine's face. "Is it really that bad under all the product?"

Blaine rested his arms on top of the table in defeat. He could feel his cheeks heating up at the confession he was about to make. In a low voice, he said, "My brother would always call me a 'Curly Haired Hobbit'."

A few drops of spit shot out from Jeremiah's lips as he attempted to hold back his laughter. "Seriously?" he cried, his voice getting considerable louder than before. "It can't be _that_ bad?"

Blaine couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face at the sight of some happiness entering the lounge.

Blaine was about to say something else when the counselor who had been standing near the door strolled over, and grabbed Jeremiah by the arm, forcing him to his feet. In what could have been seen as a calm stride, the man pulled the boy with him, and slammed him up against the wall. With a hand placed squarely on Jeremiah's chest, the counselor leaned forward, speaking something to him in a low voice. Blaine couldn't make out what was being said, but based on the look on the boy's face, it couldn't have been anything good.

Scooting his chair out, Blaine started to rise to his feet, wanting to help, but a hand came down on his shoulder and he sat back down in surprise. Turning, he came eye-to-eye with one of the boys that had been sitting at the other table. With a calm, but intense look in his eyes, the boy slowly shook his head back-and-forth before he glanced over at what was happening to Jeremiah.

Following the kid's line of sight, understanding suddenly clicked in Blaine's head.

Whatever was going on, this was considered normal here.


	4. Chapter 4

The film that Blaine has to sit through in this chapter is from a video I found on YouTube; 'Why is Homosexuality Wrong?' by Desiring God.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 _Wednesday_

"'If a man sleeps with a man as with a woman, they have both committed a detestable act. They must be put to death; their death is their own fault,'" the Pastor yelled from the Bible in his hand as he passed slowly back-and-forth between the rows of boys that were lined up on the grassy lawn.

Adhering to the warning that Jeremiah had given him that morning, Blaine did his best to stifle a yawn. He didn't know how the other boys dealt with this everyday. They hadn't been allowed back into their rooms until 11:30 the night before, and thanks to his now seemingly all-present anxiety, he had spent a good amount of the night tossing and turning. Suffice it to say, the 5:30 wake-up call came all too soon.

When he was finally allowed back into his room, Blaine had been relieved to find a few of his bags waiting for him. It was clearly nowhere near everything he had brought with him. They had taken a lot of his stuff, but knowing that he had some of his personal belongs back caused a huge rush of relief to flow through him and gave him a phantom feeling of home.

That morning, after being rudely awoken by a repetitively annoying horn from somewhere outside, Blaine used the little light he had available from the crack at the bottom of his door to search through what little he had available to wear. As expected, all of his sweater vests, bowties, and any brightly colored article of clothing had been removed from his bags.

Eventually, Blaine had decided on a dark green polo shirt with a pair of khakis. He had been allowed a quick shower the night before, and with no hair gel available for him to use that morning, his hair now sat in curly nest on top of his head.

"You know, it doesn't look that bad," Jeremiah had acknowledged, walking up beside him as they followed the crowd of other boys in the direction of where the Church stood.

Glancing in his direction, Blaine noted the boys puffed out cheeks and the fact that he was biting his lower lip, trying not to laugh.

Blaine let out an annoyed sigh. "Don't, okay? I know it looks bad."

He heard a soft chuckle escape the other boy, but did his best to ignore the reaction by people watching the other boys. Feeling a yawn coming, he raised a hand to cover his mouth.

"You should try not to do that," Jeremiah had advised, once again in control of his emotions.

"What?" Blaine asked, confused.

"Yawn," he noted. "They consider it a sign of boredom, or that you're not listening to what is going on. And watch the staring," he added after a short pause.

"Staring?"

Jeremiah nodded. "Trust me. I'm helping you here," he said. Walking passed one of the counselors, he leaned closer to Blaine to whisper the warning. "They'll send you into _isolation_ if they catch you staring at another boy."

The way he had said 'isolation', Blaine didn't think he was referring to the words usual meaning, but he fought off the urge to question him on it and reverted his eyes to what was right in front of him.

"Do you think that you are an exception to God's will?" the Pastor cried as he passed right in front of Blaine, instantly bringing him back to the present.

Not wanting to get in trouble on his first day participating in the camps activities, Blaine tried to block out all of his distractions and focus on the man's words, but it was hard.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Blaine attempted to fight off the cold morning chill to no avail. He was quickly starting to wish he had grabbed something heavier than the light brown cardigan he was currently sporting. But how was he suppose to know that part of the church's assembly took place outside? The growling of his empty stomach didn't do much in helping him concentrate either.

"Do not think that God will repent your sins if you go against him. You are an abomination if you look at a man, as you should a woman. An abomination!"

* * *

It had been a relief when they were finally allowed inside the Church building to finish out the rest of the service. It was so much warmer inside the four walls.

With the Church proceedings finally drifting to a close, Blaine stood to follow the rest of the gathered boys back outside to go and eat. By this point, his hunger was causing his stomach to cramp. Why hadn't they given him anything to eat for dinner last night?

He was just exiting the pew when a woman's voice called out from the direction of the platform.

"Chandler Kiehl and Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine froze and a cold shiver ran up is spine at hearing his name being called in such a malice sounding voice. Hesitantly, he slowly turned around to face the woman who spoke up.

Instead of wearing one of the customary light blue polo shirts that he had quickly come to recognize as identifying the camps counselors, the woman was sporting a gray skirt that stopped a couple inches above her knees. Her white blouse was tucked neatly into the top of the skirt, a few buttons left undone. Long, brunette hair came to rest halfway down her back.

If Blaine hadn't been gay, he knew there was a strong possibility that he could have been attracted to her; which he figured was part of their point in hiring her in the first place.

"You two stay behind," the woman snapped, swiveling her gaze between Blaine and where he assumed the other boy called must have been standing. "The rest of you, head for the cafeteria. Lunch will be ready soon."

Blaine felt someone nudge his arm and turned to find Jeremiah at his side. "I'll save you a seat in the cafeteria," his friend promised, and Blaine nodded in thanks.

As the other boys cleared out of the building, Blaine was able to get his first look at the kid known as Chandler. A navy-blue beanie sat on the kid's head with a few wisps of blonde hair peeking out of the front. Round glasses sat on his nose.

The kid slowly maneuvered his way towards where Blaine was standing in the center aisle, as the woman stepped off the stage. She waited until the other boy had drawn closer before speaking.

"Our newest arrivals," the woman noted with a look of slight disgust, before rudely shoving her way in between them, calling a low, "Follow me" over her shoulder.

With shocked expressions painted on the boy's faces, they turned as one to stare at the woman's retreating form.

Blaine sensed Chandler leaning closer to whisper something to him. "Any idea what this is about?"

Blaine simply shrugged in answer to his question, before motioning to the boy that they should hurry to catch up with the woman.

"My name is Maria Shaw," the lady was saying, as they pushed their way through the front doors of the Church and stumbled down the stairs. "I run the group meetings here . . ."

Chandler and Blaine shared a look as they began to follow Mrs. Shaw in the direction of the Rec Center. While she continued to ramble on about rules and what would be expected of them during their time at the camp, Chandler laid a hand on Blaine's arm to signal him to slow down their pace to create some distance between themselves and the woman.

"How long have you been here?" the blonde asked in a soft voice.

"Not long," Blaine whispered back. "My dad dropped me off yesterday morning."

"My parent's didn't tell me where we were going," Chandler commented. "They picked me up after school on Monday. Told me they had a _surprise_ for me–"

"And then they brought you here?" Blaine asked, shocked.

"Some surprise, right?" he sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I told my parents I was a gay last year. They were hoping it was _just a phase_ , but then I made the mistake of telling them about this boy I am crushing on in one of my classes . . . I guess the idea of me _acting_ on my feelings sent them over the edge."

Blaine nodded slowly in understanding.

"What about you?"

"My dad caught me making out with my boyfriend . . . I hadn't told him I was gay."

Chandler was silent for a moment before responding. "What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Kurt," Blaine paused, a smile growing on his face before slowly fading away again. "My dad was so mad, he almost hit him . . . He would have too if I hadn't stepped in."

By this point, their little group had reached the front doors of the Rec Center and the boys hurried inside behind Mrs. Shaw.

Blaine's stomach growled again in desperation as the smell of food wafted down the hallway. He couldn't help by groan in irritation when Mrs. Shaw turned towards the staircase and began to climb it.

"Where are we going?" he asked Chandler, more as cry in frustration then actually expecting to receive an answer.

"The Theater room," Mrs. Shaw replied instead, not bothering to turn around to look at him. She stopped in front of one door and pushed it open, flicking on the light switch as she entered.

The walls inside the theater room where painted a dark gray with a light gray carpet covering the floor. Ten seats were spread out in two rows in front of a white screen that hang from the wall on the opposite side of the room from the door. The chairs were similar to the ones that could be found in a public movie theater, only these seats didn't fold up and there were no cup holders available for use.

"You will be watching a collection of short films during your stay with us," Mrs. Shaw explained, finally turning to face them. "Today, you will see a seven-minute clip from John Piper, an American Reformed Baptist." She turned away again to walk over to the audio stand that was in the corner and started messing around with one of the gadgets. "Take a seat, and listen closely to what he says."

Blaine slipped into the middle seat in the front row, while Chandler warily slid into the seat to his right. A light flashed on the screen before an image eventually appeared of a man with gray hair, and a receding hairline, looking at something or someone off screen. He was shown sitting in front of a light blue, almost purple backdrop.

The overhead lights suddenly clicked off, and they heard the soft sound of the door closing behind them, telling them that Maria Shaw had left the room temporarily.

 _"Why is homosexuality wrong?"_ the video started with someone asking off screen.

The man turned to face the camera before beginning to speak in a soft almost soothing voice.

 _"With every sin, there are multiple levels of why it's offensive to God, and to be avoided. The simplest is clearly to say that the Bible says it is. We'll start there, and if we can go deeper, that's good."_

Blaine let out an annoyed sigh and shifted himself into a more comfortable position, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of ridicule he instantly suspected that this man was going to throw at him.

 _"I think it's implied clearly. It's spoken clearly in Romans 1:24 to 29 that it is wrong and to be avoided, and I think Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:9 to 10 lists a very unusual phrase about homosexuality where he says, 'Those who do such things' – and he lists it along with greed and covetousness and other sins, so it's not unique by itself in this – 'those who do such things will not enter into the kingdom of heaven'. In other words, if you know that it's wrong, and you say, 'I don't care that it's wrong. I don't care what God says. I'm going to do that thing'. That's an indication that you're not going into the kingdom of heaven."_

"The Bible also says that adultery and divorce are sinful, and yet people do that too. You don't see anyone threatening them and sending them away," Chandler noted, not taking his eyes off the screen.

 _"Now, that's just the 'It's wrong, don't do it,' authority answer. The question 'Why would the Bible say that?' is also multi-layered. Number one, the Bible sets it up at the beginning that a man and a woman become one flesh, and that's God's way of doing sexuality. Sexuality is God's idea and we should learn from God what it is, and it's a man and a woman created in a beautifully complementary way so that they form one flesh, and to try to do it another way is a distortion. It's a corruption. It's a dysfunction of the way God made it. That's number two. Number three, and this is probably the only other one I'll give, is that as I reflect on Romans 1, and the way Paul unpacked the problem with homosexuality, it appears to me that Paul is saying something like this: When you exchange the glory of God for idols, then main one that you exchange the glory of God for is yourself. The idol that you have is yourself. Well, what sex is 'yourself'? My sex is male. If you're a woman watching this, your sex is female. Well, he seems to draw out the fact that in exchanging God for our most cherished idol, which is usually yourself, we are prone to fall in love with the same-sex. So, implication: same-sex attraction is a dysfunctional form of idolatry."_

Blaine and Chandler shared a confused look with each other before turning back to the video.

 _"Now there are other kinds! Don't hear me saying that homosexual temptations are the only way that kind of self-idolatry emerges. But go to Romans 1:24 to 29 and just think that through yourself – ask how verse 23, the exchange of God for created things, relates to the exchange talked about in verse 26: 'They exchange the nature for the unnatural'. The same words 'exchanged' are used throughout that passage. The deepest thing that I've ever hit upon for why God would disapprove of this is not just that the Bible says 'Don't do it', and not just that God created male and female, but deep down there is a kind of idolatry involved in same-sex relationships that is very profound."_

"Is he saying that the reason I'm gay is because I think to highly of myself?" Chandler questioned, folding his arms across his chest.

"That's what I heard," Blaine practical growled.

 _"I'm sure there are other reasons why it's bad for us. And God loves us and he calls us not to do it. But before I turn away from that question, let me say to those of you that struggle with this that this is not hard for me to empathize with or imagine. I don't want those of you who are wrestling with this to feel like, "This is just the worst possible thing imaginable'. I don't feel that way. What I feel is simply the need to admit brokenness before the Lord. Set yourself up to say, 'My heart is broken, and I am weeping, because for reasons I don't understand, I am broken in my sexuality. I'm broken. I wish I weren't. I can choose to turn my brokenness into sin'."_

The boys shared another look with each other, and Blaine raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'Are you buying any of this?'.

 _"See, I don't think it's sin to be broken. It's the result of sin to be broken. But to just be that way, to feel this way, I don't think is any more sin than me feeling heterosexual. It's unnatural, it's broken, but now I have the choice with my heterosexuality to make it sin or to make it holy. A person who wrestles with homosexual temptations and desires has the same choice: to sin with it, or to be chaste and to seek to overcome and to move into something more God-appointed. So don't hear me isolating it as the worst of all sins. It is part of a brokenness that I share. I think John Piper's personality is broken."_

"I thought _he_ was John Piper," Blaine stated in a cold tone. He heard Chandler chuckle quietly beside him, and allowed a smirk to crawl onto his face.

"Can't speaking about yourself in the third-person be seen as some form of _self-idolatry_?" Chandler added.

Not sure how to answer, Blaine simply shrugged his shoulders.

 _"I could give you specifics: they would have to do with anger, and self-pity. And I'm just wired to like certain sins a lot. I think it's partly genetic. I saw it in my grandmother and my mother. I think it's partly family-based, and it's just me. I'm broken. So I can choose to let that brokenness govern me and turn it into sins. Or I can choose to say, 'I'm going to deal with the brokenness I have and try to steer my way through my brokenness to do as much good for others and avoid as much sin as I can'."_

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

*** WARNING! Physical abuse is in this chapter. ***

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _Wednesday Continued_

"So, which video did you have to watch today?" Jeremiah asked as Blaine set his tray down on the table.

"Some Baptist's rant about why homosexual relationships are considered a sin," his movie companion sighed, joining them at the table.

"This is Chandler," Blaine explained when Jeremiah raised an eyebrow at their unexpected guest. "He just got here a couple days ago."

"Wait till you get to the 1960's video, 'Boys Beware'," Jeremiah commented with a groan, getting back on topic. "It makes us sound like we're all pedophiles and rapists."

Blaine stared into his bowl and slowly stirred his spoon around in its contents. The vessel wasn't even half full. Letting the spoon fall to rest at the edge of the dish, he picked up the slice of bread he had received and tore off a piece to dunk into his soup.

"Is this really all we get for lunch?" Blaine asked, fearing the answer.

Jeremiah nodded, not lifting his head from his own dish. "I swear, they only give us enough food and water to not starve us to death." He sighed. "It's the only meal you'll be getting the whole time you're here."

"What?" Blaine asked.

"Lunch," he said simply, and Blaine let out a groan at the answer. Jeremiah sent him a small smile. "The first couple days are the hardest. Your stomach will adjust to it soon," he promised.

Blaine brought the soggy corner of his bread to his mouth and chewed slowly. If this was going to be his only meal for the day, he wanted to savor it.

"What are the plans for the afternoon?" Chandler asked around his own bite of food.

"They'll split us all up into three groups. Each one will have . . . a different activity for the day." Jeremiah explained with a shrug. "I think I'm going to therapy today."

* * *

"Residents staying in units 'A' and 'C', follow Counselor Smythe to your therapy session," a harsh voice spoke through a speaker system. Blaine's ears buzzed as the noise vibrated around the room.

"Hey," Jeremiah said, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder to get his attention. He was already standing up, preparing to leave. "Meet up in the lounge later?" he asked.

Blaine nodded his head, and watched his friend as he put his tray away and headed towards a young man in one of the trademark blue polo shirts, standing near the exit. Several other boys were gathering around the man as well.

The group was just starting to file out of the room when the loudspeaker went off again.

"Residents staying in units 'B' and 'D', follow Counselor Karofsky to your therapy session."

The man seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, and had taken the spot of the previous counselor by the exit. Blaine instantly remembered him as the man that had led him to his room the other day.

Legs shaking, Blaine stood and slowly headed towards the station where he had seen Jeremiah drop off his tray. He could feel Chandler following close behind him.

Karofsky stood, glaring down at the boys as a group began to gather in front of him. He waited a few seconds for any stragglers to hurry up, before turning on his heels without a word and headed down the hallway.

Making their way steadily into the lobby of the Rec Center, Blaine could just make out the last few boys from the first group disappearing out of view up the staircase. He frowned when Karofsky made for the exit.

"We're not going upstairs?" Blaine asked, leaning closer towards Chandler and lowering his voice so no one else would here. "I thought all the group meeting took place in this building."

The blonde boy simply shrugged his shoulders, and Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Chandler whispered back. "They kept me locked in my room most of yesterday. This is my first day participating in 'group activities'. I know as much as you do."

Just like that morning when the boys grouped together to head for the church for the Morning Prayer service, counselors stationed themselves a few feet away from each other along both sides of the path leading back towards the courtyard. Blaine could feel their hateful stares piercing into his skin from all directions. It was like they expected them to try and make a bolt for it at any moment. His confusion only grew when Karofsky turned, leading the group towards the eerie cement structures that he had seen earlier. 'Storage space,' he remembered Amelia explaining.

The group came to a stop, gathering in front of the three structures and Blaine bit his lower lip gently as he sensed the counselors gathering in around them. Quickly breaking the cluster of young boys into three groups, Karofsky ordered each set into one of the three buildings.

"Guess I'll see you later?" Chandler said, a terrified look on his face.

Blaine could only nod before a large hand came down on his shoulder, causing him to jump. Glancing to his right, he caught a flash of a counselor's polo shirt before quickly facing forward again, heart hammering in his chest.

A cold rush of air hit Blaine as the door leading into one of the structures was thrown open, tussling his ungelled curls. A tingling sensation ran up his arms, goose bumps peppering the skin.

Shoved into the doorway, Blaine had to force himself to breathe as he stared down the dark hall that lay inside. Two superficial light bulbs were screwed into the ceiling, creating spooky shadows that crawled along the walls and the floor. He couldn't help the terrified whine that escaped his lips as the pressure of the hand on his back forced him farther into the building.

Blaine could sense the other boys being lead in behind him. Halfway down the hall, Blaine's guide pulled him to a stop and pushed open the door in front of them.

The first thing that Blaine noticed about the room was the smell. There was a slight musky hint to the room that Blaine guessed to be sweat, but it was fiercely over-powered by the pungent smells of urine and vomit. The aroma hit him like a wall, knocking him back and he scrunched up his nose in disgust. The toxic smell made his eyes water. The odor alone made him want to turn and run, but the man was still behind him putting pressure on his back.

A pale light source dangled a few feet down from the ceiling by a cord. The walls where painted a light gray and with a floor to match. A projection screen hung on the far wall, covering a third of the surface. A table sat in the middle of the room, a round circle of light darting back-and-forth along the top as the bulb swung slowly above it. A simple metal chair sat in front of the table, facing the screen.

It wasn't until he was forced over to the table that he took note of the scratch marks and pools of water stains along the surface of the steel table. Then Blaine's eyes locked onto something that made his whole body go cold. A tremor ran through him, and the tears that had scorched his eyes when he first entered the room slowly slid down his cheeks.

The base of two thick metal cuffs where screwed into the surface of the table, the outer rims of the steel laid open just waiting to be latched onto something.

This was it. Blaine's worse fears were coming true. They were going to torture him.

Blaine could hear his pulse banging in his ears and; despite the chill in the room, he could feel beads of sweat starting to drip down his back. He could no longer hold back the terrified sobs that escaped from his mouth.

"Don't cry," the man behind Blaine spoke up in a firm voice for the first time. "Men don't cry."

The counselor started to push him in the direction of the chair. Digging his heels into the cemented floor, Blaine attempted to keep himself in place. When that didn't work, he began to struggle in the man's arms. If he could just make it back to the door . . .

He couldn't sit in that chair. He wouldn't.

"No! Stop, let me go!"

He could hear the counselor saying something to him, but it sounded like it was coming from far away. The ringing in his ears felt like it was vibrating in his head. He couldn't think straight. He had to get out of this room. He couldn't stay here.

Another pair of hands was suddenly on him, ripping him out of the previous man's grip. For a split second, Blaine was filled with immense relief . . . and then a searing pain flew up his spine as he was hurled against the wall.

One hand was pressed firmly on Blaine's shoulder; holding him in place, while another found its way under his chin forcing him to lock eyes with his attacker: Karofsky.

A smirk was playing on the man's lips. "Looks like we got ourselves a fighter," Karofsky spoke over his shoulder to the one that had led him into the room, his eyes never straying from Blaine's.

"We'll break that soon enough," the other spoke up. The voice sounded like it was coming from the other side of the room, out of sight due to the big man pinning him back.

Blaine continued to struggle in the counselor's arms. He knew it was fruitless to try. Karofsky was so much stronger than him, but he couldn't help it. Being in this overly gray room, with its dank smell and awful lighting, and Karofsky's face hovering just inches away from his, Blaine felt like he was being suffocated.

The walls were closing in around him. He couldn't breath. He needed to get outside. He needed fresh air.

He needed Kurt.

Blaine wiggled uncomfortably against the wall. He let out a short whine when Karofsky started to stroke his cheek with his thumb.

"You _are_ a pretty one," Karofsky cooed close to the frighten boy's ear so only he could hear him.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shot and turned his head to the side, trying to keep his emotions in check. He attempted to block out the situation he had somehow found himself in.

"Oh, is the fairy going to cry?" Karofsky taunted, pulling away a few inches and Blaine felt like he could breathe again. "Don't worry. We're going to have some fun with you."

"Kurt . . ." Blaine moaned. He hadn't realized he had spoken the name out loud until the men's angry growls reached him.

"Kurt?" the one behind Karofsky snarled. "Who's that? Your _faggy_ boyfriend?"

Blaine felt his muscles tense up at the word, and his hands clutched into fists. "D-don't call him that!" he cried, a few more tears escaping pass his eyes. He knew he was going to regret it, but he couldn't just stand there and let these guys berate his boyfriend.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, when Blaine felt a blunt force ram him right below his ribs. The muscles in his stomach cramped up and he struggled to get air into his lungs. His vision began to spin, and a sour taste stuck in the back of his throat. Blaine wrapped his arms around his torso hoping to dull the pain, and did his best to fight off the feeling of needing to vomit. He wanted to curl up into a ball on the floor to protect himself from any farther harm, but Karofsky still had one hand pinning him back, while the other was held between them in a tight fist.

"Don't worry. We'll set him straight in no time. Literally," the other man in the room commented. "I'm ready when you are."

With remnants of pain still clutching his stomach, Blaine was yanked away from the wall and thrown into the metal chair by the table.

"Put your hands in the cuffs," Karofsky ordered.

Doing his best to hold back his tears, Blaine determinedly shook his head back-and-forth and clasped his hands together in his lap. His initial thought was that he would rather take a beating than be forced into whatever kind of torture they were planning to do to him once he was chained down to the table. Anything had to be better than being locked in place with no chance of getting away, or even being able to defend himself from these monsters.

Karofsky lunged at him from his left, sending a quick slap across Blaine's face causing his head to snap to the side and he let out a soft cry in pain. Sobbing quietly, he reached a hand up to touch his throbbing cheek.

"I said, put your hands in the cuffs," Karofsky stated slowly in a firm voice.

The look in Karofsky's eyes sent a cold shiver up Blaine's spine, and he immediately regretted his idea of attempting to fight back. No matter what he did, these guys were going to get their way in the end. Might as well go along with it for now, and hope they'll let him go when they are done.

Arms shaking, Blaine slowly raised his hands to set them on the table with his wrist touching the bottom of the open cuffs.

"Palms up," one of the men growled. Keeping his eye down cast, Blaine did as commanded and turned his hands over.

The counselors leaned in, each taking a cuff and tightening it to their liking. Blaine let out a cry in agony as the metal dug painfully into his skin, and his breathing became labored.

Another sob escaped Blaine's lips when he heard the door behind him squeaking open. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to turn his head to find out what horror was joining him now.

Through the ringing in his ears, Blaine heard Karofsky say something about checking on the other boys in the building and felt his presence leave the room.

The soft rumbling sound of tires rolling over the cement floor was heard from behind him and eventually came to a stop to the right of the table. Terror flowing through his veins, Blaine took a deep breath and turned his head just enough to make out what appeared to be a decent-sized, plastic cooler, parked on the ground.

Blaine lightly bit his lower lip as he studied the dark blue box. Tears threatened to spill over at the corners of his eyes. His body began to twist in the restraints and he moaned at the feeling of the cuffs chafing his skin.

Hesitantly, Blaine raised his gaze to take in the woman standing beside the chest. The middle-aged woman was dressed simply in faded jeans and a blouse with a light blue smock hanging from around her neck. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun on top of her head. Blaine assumed she was one of the workers in the kitchen.

Blaine's eyes quickly drifted back down as the woman lifted the lid off the container, a cloud of water vapor peeked over the rim and started to spill a third of the way down the side of the box before evaporating into the air. She then reached into a black pouch that was attached to the side of the container and pulled out what looked to him like tongs sort of like the ones his mother kept in their kitchen back at home. Only these had sharp spikes at the ends that twisted inward.

As the woman handed one of the sharp tools to the man who had guided Blaine into the torture chamber, he could hear the pair mumbling something to each other, but their words wouldn't reach his ears. His limbs started to tremble, and his breath hitched in his throat as his eyes rested on the tools now in their hands.

Slipping their fingers around the handles, the man and woman reached their instruments into the cooler. The muscles in their arms strained under the weight of whatever was hidden inside out of view. Slowly, the pair raised the tongs out of the cooler to reveal a large block of ice.

Blaine couldn't help but whimper at the sight, and his stomach churned with dread as they brought the slab of ice closer to him.

"Open your hands," the man barked as they neared. "Lay them flat against the table."

Blaine frowned at him in confusion before glancing down at his hands. He hadn't realized he had balled them up into fists. Forcing the muscles in his fingers to relax, he unclenched the joints and hesitantly laid his hand flat against the surface. He couldn't stop them from shaking.

The first thing Blaine felt when they set the cold brick on his palms was the shear weight of it. He winced as he felt the ice come to rest on his outstretched hands and his toes curled up inside his shoes in shock of the frightening experience playing out in front of him. He tried to flex his fingers under the bulk of the object and felt a tension in his joints. A tortured cry burst from his throat when he felt a painful electric current shoot through his arms and up to his elbows as the muscles in his palms strained under the intense mass of the cube.

Somebody turned the lights off in the room, and the screen hanging from the wall in front of him suddenly lit up. It wasn't long before the first image appeared of two men holding hands. A couple seconds passed before a second image flashed up, this one of two guys kissing.

Alarm rang out in Blaine's head. All the color drained from his face.

" _They try to brainwash you with physical pain_ ," he recalled his Sadie Hawkins date, Colin, explain about conversion camps. " _The idea is to get you to associate the concept of pain with men being sexual active._ "

A chill quickly seeped into the skin of Blaine's hands, and a cold puddle of water slowly pooled into the center of his palm and between his fingers. A tingling sensation raced up his skin, while goose bumps appeared on the surface of his arms. His hands were quickly become numb under the block of melting ice.

As Blaine continued to endure the freezing, crushing pressure on his bare hands, he could feel his pulse picking up and beating at a much rapider pace. Leaning his head back, he sucked air in between his teeth as he tried to keep himself from crying out in both pain and fear. He could feel beads of sweat dripping down from his ungelled hairline.

He tried to keep his attention on the images that were flashing by on the screen. He hated to find out what they would do to him if he didn't keep his eyes open, but the pain baring down on his hands was making it hard to concentrate.

Hoping to distance himself from most of the pain he was going through, Blaine allowed a memory of Kurt to float into the back of his mind.

* * *

 _Blaine sat on a bench outside of William McKinley High School, his satchel bag resting on the seat to his right. He was still dressed in his Dalton Academy blazer._

 _He had first met Kurt Hummel at the Lima Bean only two weeks ago. The blonde-haired boy had looked so sad and lonely sitting by himself with his plastic coffee cup nuzzled in between his hands on the table. Something about the kid instantly drew Blaine's attention to him. He had excused himself from his friends and ventured over to talk to the boy. It hadn't taking long for the two to quickly come immersed into a conversation._

 _They had so much in common. They were both into fashion and the Vogue magazines. They loved musicals and Disney movies. They were both members of the Glee clubs at their schools and loved performing on stage. And, although Blaine hadn't come out to anyone yet, they were both gay._

 _While Blaine was the star soloist in his group, Kurt, and a lot of the other members in New Direction, were starting to feel brushed aside by their lead duet couple, which was why Kurt had been feeling down that day. Their team had made it to Regionals that year, and their teacher had been refusing to let anyone else in the group try out for a lead._

 _Even though Blaine had still been coming to terms with his sexuality at the time, he couldn't deny that he had felt an almost instant connection with Kurt from that very first day. They had exchanged phone numbers and gotten into an easy routine of meeting up at the Lima Bean before school every morning. It quickly became one of Blaine's favorite parts of the day, the only other thing coming close was singing with the Warblers._

 _Close to a week ago, Blaine had gotten up the courage to come out to Kurt about his sexuality, knowing that the fellow gay teen wouldn't judge him in the slightest. Even so, watching Kurt's eyes light up at the news had come as a huge relief to the nervous teen, and the blonde followed up the secret sharing with an admission that he had a crush on Blaine. His stomach had flipped at the confession, and Blaine had wanted to return the affection immediately, but something stopped him._

 _"I really care about you too, Kurt," he had said, and then hesitated for a moment before continuing. "It's just . . . I haven't told anybody else yet, and I don't want to start something until I have officially come out."_

 _Kurt had understood his fear immediately, and had agreed to keep their relationship strictly as friends until he was ready._

 _Which is what had initially led Blaine to waiting outside of the high school for said boy._

 _Crossing his ankles, Blaine swung his legs back-and-forth as he studied the front entrance of the school. A few teens had sporadically been exiting the building for the last few minutes, and he figured the school's Glee club rehearsal must have just recently gotten out. None of the kids paid him any mind as they each headed directly for the parking lot._

 _Eventually, the boy he was waiting for pushed his way outside building. Kurt was busy stowing a notebook into his bag and had started to walk by Blaine without even noticing him._

 _"Kurt!" Blaine called out to him. He swung his bag over his shoulders and hurry to catch up to his friend._

 _"Blaine?" Kurt gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"_

 _"Nothing," he grinned, coming to a stop just a few steps in front of the blonde teen. "I just have something I wanted to tell you."_

 _"And you couldn't have just texted me this news?" Kurt questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice._

 _Blaine shook his head. "Not this. I wanted to tell you in person."_

 _Kurt readjusted the strap hanging from his shoulder. "Tell me what?"_

 _Blaine paused, looking directly into Kurt's eyes before announcing, "I told my brother last night." He sent him a knowing look, wondering if he would pick up on what he was trying to say._

 _Kurt blinked at him, obviously puzzling over his words before realization flashed into his eyes. "That you're gay?"_

 _Blaine smirked back at him and gave a small nod. "And I'm thinking about telling my friends next week."_

 _Kurt couldn't contain his excitement any longer. Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him close._

 _Blaine laughed and gave Kurt a slightly awkward pat on the back. "Don't get too excited on me yet. I may chicken out on telling my friends," he noted, his voice growing softer by the end._

 _"You told your brother, though," Kurt exclaimed, taking a step back and resting his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "That's a huge step. How did he take it?"_

 _"Well," Blaine shrugged, "once the initial shock wore off, he seemed to be okay with it."_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _The smile grew on his face. "Mhmm," he hummed. "He said 'as long as I'm happy, he doesn't care who I end up falling in love with'."_

 _"That's great, Blaine!" Kurt paused, his smile faltering. "Do you think you'll tell your parents anytime soon?"_

 _Blaine's smile slowly drifted away as well. "I don't know, Kurt," he replied slowly, biting his lower lip softly in thought. "I think my mom would be okay with it. It's mostly my dad's reaction I'm worried about."_

 _"Why?"_

 _Turning, Blaine leisurely started to make his way in the direction of the parking lot, knowing that Kurt would follow. "My dad – He's kind of . . . homophobic."_

 _He could feel Kurt's eyes on him, but he refused to look up and meet the stare. When the taller boy didn't reply, Blaine shrugged. "I don't want to tell him, Kurt. I'm terrified about how he would react if he finds out."_

 _When Kurt still hadn't replied back after they had stepped off the curb, Blaine finally looked up at the boy. The expression on the teen's face was difficult to read._

 _"Kurt?"_

 _"You said you didn't want to take our relationship to the next level until you had come out; which I completely understand," Kurt finally spoke up. "But if you're not sure when you are going to tell your parents . . . I mean, does that–"_

 _Blaine slid his hand into Kurt's, which stopped his rambling at the unsuspected contact._

 _"I'm not going to make you wait that long," Blaine promised, sending him a shy smile. "I don't know how long it will be until I'm ready to tell my parents, but honestly, I don't think I can wait much longer before making things official with you."_

 _A smirk appeared on Kurt's face, and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked back at Blaine. He felt Kurt give his hand a light squeeze._

 _"Just give me a few more days to tell my friends at Dalton," Blaine said. "Then we can start planning our first date."_

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _Wednesday Continued_

It had taken Blaine a couple hours to get the feeling back into his hands once the half melted chunk of ice had finally been taken away. His fingers had turned pale; almost white, from being smashed under the cold object for so long. The bones in his knuckles had refused to cooperate with him when he attempted to curl his fingers up.

He had promised both Jeremiah and Chandler that he would meet them in the lounge that afternoon, but after what he had been through he was not in the mood for company. Instead, Blaine had headed back towards the Rec Center. He sat in one of the available chairs in the lobby of the building, nursing his numb hands while he tried not to cry as he thought about Kurt.

The chill of the ice seemed to have seeped through his whole body creating a painful ache inside him that only seemed to grow more intense as time slowly passed by around him.

By the time he was allowed to return to his room, Blaine had gotten most of the filling back into his fingers and he felt mentally exhausted. Not bothering to change out of his clothes, he simply yanked off his sneakers and crawled onto the mattress that served as his bed, but he couldn't fall asleep.

The pain inside his gut had only seemed to intensify as he lay on the crappy bedding. Now that he was alone, Blaine allowed the tears he had been fighting back all afternoon to pour down his face.

He hated it here. He wanted to go home . . .

No! He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to see his dad again. What he wanted was to be with Kurt.

He wanted to feel his boyfriend's arms wrapped protectively around him. He wanted to get lost in the boy's bright, ocean blue eyes. He wanted to hear his soft, angelic voice in his ears telling him that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to feel Kurt's lips on his skin.

Blaine felt pathetic. It had only been his first day going through the physical 'therapy' that this camp provided, and he was already starting to break under the pressure.

Still, he knew that nothing was going to change how he felt. No matter what these people did to him, he was always going to love Kurt.

* * *

 _Thursday_

"It's as simple as making a choice. You have all chosen to be gay. You can choose not to be," Maria Shaw, the woman in charge of the group meetings, stated. "It is all about changing your perspective of yourselves."

Blaine was sitting with his legs crossed in one of the seats that had been set up in a circle in the center of the meeting room. Fourteen other young boys were staring at the women with blank expressions.

"There isn't anything wrong with being gay," a red headed boy groaned under his breath a couple seats to Blaine's left. The kid didn't appear to be much older than thirteen, making him one of the youngest in the room. The freckles coating his cheeks and nose weren't helping him look any older.

A rush of glee flowed through Blaine's limbs. At least there were a few boys still fighting back at the counselors' bigotry comments.

"Oh, there is absolutely something wrong with being gay, Charlie," Maria replied, obviously trying to be patient with the boy.

"But it's love," the kid continued. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he raised his voice higher so he could be heard clearly by everyone that was gathered. Some of the boys were starting to shoot him warning looks, but Charlie paid them no mind. "It may not be considered the typical kind of relationship, but how can any form of love be wrong?"

"Homosexuality is not a natural path for a man; or a woman, to be living. It says so in the Bible. You are here . . . all of you are here," she corrected herself, scanning her eyes around the room before locking eyes with Charlie once again, "so we can help you with this problem."

"What about the other sins that are mentioned in the Bible that people do all the time?"

It took Maria Shaw shooting her daggered glare in Blaine's direction for him to realize that he had spoken.

His throat suddenly felt dry under her stare, and he had to force the next words out of his mouth. "For example, the Bible states that divorce is a sin and yet that is very common now-a-days."

"It also says that getting remarried after divorce is wrong," Chandler spoke up next to him. His arms were crossed in front of him as he slouched in his seat.

Blaine had never felt more relieved to have someone else helping to back him up.

"According to the Bible, eating seafood is wrong," someone sitting on the other side of the circle spoke up.

"Football too," another said.

"Football is a sin?" somebody asked.

"Yeah," the second voice added. "The balls used to be made out of pigskins, right? The Bible says something about how you shouldn't touch their carcasses because they are unclean."

A warm feeling scorched in Blaine's heart as the argument progressed and a smirk grew on his face.

"Being gay is an alienating disease," Maria snapped, trying desperately to gain back control of her meeting. It was clear that she was quickly becoming irritated with the kids' sudden back slide in conforming, but the kids were no longer listening.

"That's enough!" a firm voice demanded from one side of the room, and Blaine along with his fourteen camp buddies turned as one to find an infuriated looking counselor glaring back at them. "Charlie and Blaine! Out in the hallway. Now!" the man practically growled.

Blaine instantly recognized him as Sebastian Smythe. He was the counselor that had led Jeremiah and the rest of his group upstairs yesterday after lunch. He said a silent prayer of thanks for it not being Karofsky. He didn't think he could handle seeing him so soon after what happened yesterday.

Sending an anxious look at Chandler, Blaine slowly stood up and followed behind the red headed boy out of the room.

With one hand on each of their shoulders, the counselor guided Blaine and Charlie down the hallway before pausing at another door. Through the square window, Blaine could see that it lead into a gym room with several different exercising equipment available to use. Once the door was opened, the sounds of a few men talking reached his ears, along with some grunting from the one's currently working on the machines.

The man standing behind them pushed Blaine and Charlie ahead of him into the room. The few counselors present in the weight room gave them curious looks at the sound of them entering, but quickly returned back to their conversations.

The two boys were quickly led towards the back of the room, where they were told to stand with their backs against the wall, facing Counselor Smythe.

"Talking back to one of your therapists, huh?" he frowned at them, hands on his hips.

"We were just asking a question," Charlie explained. Blaine could hear the slight hint of sarcasm in the young boy's voice, and hoped the counselor didn't catch on to it. They were already in enough trouble as it was. "Isn't that why we are here? To learn why our feelings are wrong and then how to fix them. How are we supposed to learn if we can't ask questions?"

Smythe's hand cracked across his face, snapping it back with the force of the blow, causing Charlie's head to slam into the wall behind him with a sickening sound.

Blaine flinched at the sound of the impact. Seeing the boy's unfocused stare flashed Blaine back to what went down between his father and Kurt just a couple days ago, and his heart gripped at the memory.

Not wanting to make things worse for either of them, Blaine forced himself to hold his ground, but looked on at Charlie worriedly.

As Charlie leaned against the wall, trying to get his bearings back, the councilor stepped away to retrieve one of BagBase's original fashion backpacks that were lying on the floor. By the way Smythe lifted the bag; with a low groan and the muscles in his arms visibly rippling under his polo, whatever was inside was heavy.

"Turn around," he snarled at Blaine. To scared to find out what he would do to him if he disobeyed, Blaine did as he was commanded. He could feel the man's hot breath on the back of his neck as Smythe drew closer. "Put your arms through the straps."

As soon as the weight of the dark green backpack dropped onto his shoulders Blaine hunched forward in surprise and his legs buckled under him. What did they put in there? Rocks?

"Don't move until I tell you too," Smythe ordered before turning away.

Blaine turned his head briefly to check on Charlie. He still seemed a little out of it, but did appear to be doing better than he was before.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw the councilor struggling with a second backpack, but he was to busy trying to keep himself balanced under the weight placed on his back to fully worry about what else the man was going to do.

Blaine heard Smythe deliver the same commands to Charlie that he had recently received and shivered. The red head was already dazed from the slap he had obtained. Being attached with his own heavy weight backpack was not going to help the kid stay on his feet.

"Don't move," the man snapped again. "I'll be back soon, and when I do you both better be in the same positions."

The carpet under their feet muffled the councilor's footsteps as he walked away from them.

With a determined sigh, Blaine squared his shoulders and spread his feet apart a few more inches to help with his balance. Something hard kept rubbing against his back from inside the bag and he was starting to figure that his original assumption of there being rocks inside could be correct.

His back was already feeling sore and his legs were starting to feel like jelly.

How long were they going to be expected to stay like this?

* * *

Three days.

It had been three days now since Kurt had seen or even spoken to his boyfriend.

He had tried calling Blaine again the previous night, but all he got was the boy's voicemail. Kurt lost count on how many text messages he had sent out just hoping for a response.

He was having trouble focusing on anything. In class, the teacher's lectures would ramble on into seemly meaningless words that wouldn't make since in his head. He wanted nothing more than to just go home, crawl into bed, and cry himself to sleep.

It would be one thing if Blaine wanted to break up with him. At least he would still be here. Kurt would rather have Blaine as a friend than not in his life at all, but this was different. This wasn't a break up. This was . . . nothing. The not knowing was freaking him out inside.

The possibility of Blaine's father making him transfer back to Dalton Academy had crossed Kurt's mind, but even that wasn't an excuse for Blaine to be treating him like this. Whatever his father had done, whatever he had threatened Blaine with, Kurt was certain that he wouldn't do this. Simply ignore his calls and text messages with no explanation.

The end of another school day had come around, and Kurt found himself sitting alone in the choir room waiting for the rest of the Glee club members to come in. Sectionals were only about a week away and they were going to be choosing what songs they wanted to perform for the competition.

Kurt usually loved this time of the day. Just getting to hang out with all of his friends and singing, but he couldn't stop worrying about Blaine. They'd rarely gone more than two hours without seeing or communicating to each other in some form since they had made their relationship official. The more time that drifted by without a word from the boy he loved was causing the ache in his chest to intensify.

He was just pressing send on yet another text to Blaine when he heard someone entering the room.

"Hey, Kurt," came Finn's voice, and Kurt nodded in the direction of the sound. "Still no word from Blaine?" his stepbrother guessed, seeing the boy's worried expression.

"Not a word," Kurt said, finally lifting his eyes from his phone. "Something is wrong. I know it is."

"Maybe he's sick," Rachel replied. The pair had come in holding hands, and they quickly took their usual seats in the front, turning in their chairs to continue the conversation with Kurt.

"No," he stated firmly, glancing back down at his phone. More Glee members were slowly pouring into the room. "He would still be answering my texts."

"What's going on?" Sam asked, taking the seat to Kurt's right.

"We still haven't heard anything from Blaine," Finn explained for him, and Kurt felt his heart twist in despair.

"Don't tell me there's trouble in fairy land," Santana smirked taking her seat next to Brittney.

Mercedes sent a glare in the Cheerios' direction before giving Kurt a concerned look. "Why don't you just swing by his house sometime if you're so worried?" she asked.

"Yeah, Kurt. Sitting around and moping isn't going to do you any good. You'll give yourself worry lines," Rachel added in a slightly mocking tone. "Just go and check on him."

Kurt had been pondering over that idea himself lately, but the idea of having to face down Blaine's dad again terrified him.

Before anyone could add anything else to the conversation, Mr. Schuester walked in, instantly changing the topic.

"Okay, guys! Sectionals is next week. Let's get to work."

Rachel's hand shot up. "Mr. Schue!" she called out enthusiastically before standing up without being called on. "With the theme this year being 'Classics', I was thinking we could sing one of Journey's most popular songs; 'Don't Stop Believing'."

"I already have our songs picked out, Rachel," Mr. Schue sighed in annoyance and Rachel sat back down with a huff, folding her arms across her chest. "I thought we would try something different this year. Instead of making Finn and Rachel are lead soloists, I was thinking this time around that we should give other members a chance to sing up front."

Everyone got excited at this.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"That's awesome!"

"What songs are we going to be preforming?"

"And what about Blaine?" Puck's voice was heard over everyone else, coming from the corner of the room. The name caused Kurt's heart to thump painfully in his chest. "Without him, we're back down to eleven members. We need twelve if we are even going to be allowed to compete."

"Kurt," Mr. Schue stated, turning to look at said boy. "Have you heard anything from Blaine?"

Kurt's stomach tightened and he felt like he was going to throw up. Why did they have to keep mentioning his name?

"He hasn't heard anything from him since Monday," Finn answered for him again, seeing the sick look on the boy's face.

Mr. Schue nodded before turning back to Kurt. "Can you find out what is going on?" he continued, not seeming to realize how hard this topic was for him at the moment. "We need to know if we should start looking for a twelve member."

An image of Mr. Anderson screaming at him just inches from his face flashed behind Kurt's eyes. The palms of his hands were getting sweaty, and he could feel the blood rushing out of his already pale cheeks. Kurt shook his head to banish the image from his mind.

Even the thought of going back to that house again filled Kurt with dread, but this wasn't just about him. Blaine was missing. Kurt knew that something horrible had to have happened to him. The love of his life wouldn't have simply have ceased contact with him otherwise. And not only that, but the Glee club was in need of it's twelfth member. They had to get him back, and fast if they were going to compete in the up coming competition.

And maybe he could convince Finn to go with him. At least then he wouldn't have to face Blaine's dad by himself.

Lifting his eyes enough to look at his teacher, Kurt nodded his head. "I'll check on him this weekend."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _Friday_

Blaine's toes curled up inside his shoes and his back spasmed in pain. He leaned his head back and took in a sharp intake of air through his teeth as he waited for the current of electricity to die down. When the pain started to subside again, he took in a few shaky breaths to attempt to calm his nervous. Sweat was pouring down from his forehead.

The day after his first eventful meeting with Maria Shaw in-group, Blaine found himself once again handcuffed to a table inside one of the torture buildings. This time, the counselor who escorted him in had attached wires to his fingertips, along with a few other places on his body. The other side of the wires was coming out of some kind of control box that sat near him on the table.

The images that flashed across the screen today were a mixture of straight and gay couples. Whenever a man and woman flashed onto the screen, the shock machine would stay off, but if it was two guys . . .

Blaine let out a hiss as yet another painful shock radiated through his body.

* * *

Kurt sat at his kitchen table, a glass of water resting in-between his hands. With his eyes locked on the contents inside his glass, Kurt tried unsuccessfully to fight off the still ever-present anxiety coiling in his gut and a few tears escaped making their way slowly down his cheeks.

Another day had gone by without a word from Blaine. Nothing. Which meant, if he wanted answers, he had to face Mr. Anderson again. Dread crept slowly down his spine at the thought of having to get face-to-face with the man again, but it didn't appear as if he had much of a choice anymore.

Kurt had asked Finn earlier if he could drive him out to his boyfriend's house tomorrow to check on him, but his brother had already made plans to hang out with Rachel this weekend.

Kurt was on his own.

As his fingers lazily traveled up-and-down the outskirts of his cup, collecting the condensation on his skin, Kurt allowed his mind to drift over to one of his happiest memories with Blaine.

* * *

 _A week after Blaine told Kurt that he had come out to his brother, he stopped by the blonde's house with a surprise._

 _"Hey Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed excitedly when Kurt opened the door._

 _"Blaine, what are you doing here?" he asked, opening the door wider to allow the gel-haired boy to enter into the foyer._

 _The boy stared back at Kurt with a sparkle in his eye and a smirk on his face. "I told them."_

 _Kurt knew instantly what he was referring too. "You told the Warblers!?"_

 _Blaine nodded happily. "I'm officially out at school. Everyone took it pretty well too."_

 _"That's great, Blaine," Kurt cried, wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close. "I'm so happy for you."_

 _"I know," Blaine let out a soft chuckle. "And you know what this means now, right?"_

 _Kurt pulled away to look at the boy's face, leaving his hands to rest on his shoulders. "What?"_

 _The grin grew on Blaine's face. "Date night. This weekend."_

 _The blonde couldn't help but smile back, and jumped up-and-down in excitement. "Really? What are we going to do? There is movie out in theaters I've been wanting to see–"_

 _"I already got everything planned." Blaine placed a hand on Kurt's upper arm to calm him down slightly. "You know the theatre in Downtown Columbus?"_

 _Kurt had heard about it. He had never actually been there before, but he had seen pictures of the building. The theatre had a luxurious, fantasy atmosphere inside, and he had always dreamed of visiting it sometime, but Columbus was almost a two-hour drive depending on traffic. The few times Kurt was able to talk his dad into attending a professional musical performance, the man had insisted on going to the local theatre in town._

 _"I've heard of it," Kurt said, nodding his head._

 _"Well, I checked their event schedule online last night, and they are going to be performing 'The Sound of Music' this Saturday."_

 _Kurt's face lit up at the news. 'The Sound of Music' had been his mother's favorite movie. Some of his earliest memories were of cuddling up next to his mom on their living room couch as they listened to Maria_ _and the seven von Trapp children singing and dancing on screen._

 _"I already bought our tickets," Blaine continued, seeing the look on Kurt's face. "The show starts at 3:00 pm. There is also a place only a couple blocks from the theatre that I thought we could stop at for dinner afterwards."_

* * *

 _Holding Blaine's hand, Kurt stepped out of the hallway to find himself in the balcony section of the huge theatre room. He couldn't help but gawked at the red and yellow atmosphere presented around him. Everything looked so extravagant and expensive, and the twenty-one foot high chandelier attached to the ceiling of the lavish, Spanish-Baroque architecture really pulled the whole effect together. The pictures of the interior that Kurt had viewed online didn't do the place justice. The theatre room was stunning._

 _"This place is amazing, Blaine," Kurt gushed as the pair took their seats._

 _"Glad you like it," Blaine commented, leaning over to leave a quick kiss on the blonde's cheek. Pulling back, he gave the boy's hand a light squeeze._

 _The instrumental version of 'Do-Re-Mi' that was playing in the background softly came to its close and 'My Favorite Things' started up._

 _Kurt's eyes widened as he recognized the tune to his favorite song from the movie and quietly started to sing. "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens."_

 _Blaine quickly jumped in with the next line. "Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens."_

 _"Brown paper packages tied up with strings," Kurt added._

 _The two came together with, "These are a few of my favorite things."_

 _"Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels," Kurt sang, leaning closer towards Blaine._

 _"Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles." Blaine tiled his head at Kurt and sent him a smirk._

 _"Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings," Kurt added, grinning back at the boy next to him._

 _"These are a few of my favorite things," they sang together._

 _"Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes." Kurt looked down at their interlocking hands._

 _"Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes." Blaine playfully brushed his finger across the tip of Kurt nose at the word, receiving a quick giggle for the boy in turn._

 _"Silver-white winters that melt into springs," Kurt continued._

 _And together, "These are a few of my favorite things."_

 _Resting their foreheads together, they continued on harmonizing the chorus._

 _"When the dog bites  
When the bee stings  
When I'm feeling sad  
I simply remember my favorite things  
And then I don't feel so bad."_

 _As the instrumental music continued from the direction of the stage, Blaine slowly closed the distance between them until his lips softly touched Kurt's. The kiss started out slow and gentle, but quickly grew in passion. Kurt felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach as Blaine brought a hand up to cup his cheek. In response, the blonde snaked his hand around the back of the boy's neck, holding him in place. The gel-haired boy attempted to pull Kurt closer to him, but the armrest sat stubbornly in between them, not allowing their bodies to get any closer together._

 _They reluctantly pulled apart when the lights in the auditorium darkened and the curtains started to pull back, revealing the hidden stage beyond it._

 _Kurt rested his head against Blaine's shoulder, while his new boyfriend wrapped his arm around his, giving him a small squeeze. With a happy sigh, Kurt felt Blaine leave a small kiss on the top of his head before they both settled back to watch the show._

* * *

 _"You are sixteen going on seventeen  
Baby, it's time to think  
Better beware be canny and careful  
Baby, you're on the brink."_

 _Blaine had his arms stretched out on either side of him as he 'balanced' on the curb while singing one of the sings from the play._

 _"Please don't trip and fall into the street," Kurt advised with his arms crossed over his chest. He raised a concerned eyebrow at the boy. "That would definitely put a damper on our date."_

 _Blaine chuckled before moving a step away from the curb and took Kurt's hand in his. "Well, we wouldn't want to ruined our date, would we?" he grinned._

 _"I'm having fun tonight," Kurt said as they continued along the street. "Thanks for this."_

 _"Oh, the night's not over yet. You hungry?"_

 _At the mention of food, Kurt's stomach rumbled loudly._

 _Blaine laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on," he exclaimed, starting to pull Kurt along. "I made reservations for us."_

 _"Reservations? Where are we going?"_

 _Ignoring the question, the dark haired boy brought them to a stop in front of one of the buildings._

 _"'The Murder Mystery Dinner Show'?" Kurt said, reading the sign on the door. A small smile was on his face when he looked back at the boy at his side._

 _Blaine nodded his head excitedly. "I've been to one of these down in Pennsylvania when I was visiting relatives. That one had an Old West theme to it, and was really fun. This one isn't themed, but it got really good reviews online and serves a four-course meal," he explained, holding the door open for Kurt._

 _"Welcome," the hostess greeted them behind her desk. Excited chatter could already be heard coming from the room behind her. "I just need to see your confirmation page, a valid ID from whoever bought the tickets, and the credit card used during the purchase."_

 _Once all the paperwork had been cleared, the woman picked up two menus from the stack to her left. "Follow me. I'll show you to your table."_

 _Entering the space, Kurt instantly picked up on the 'boardroom' appearance of the place with its light gray walls and art-deco type patterned carpet that coated the floor, but that was were the similarities ended._

 _Kurt counted eight tables set up in the spacious room. Each was layered with a red tablecloth. Ten place settings were arranged around each table, with a small bouquet of flowers sitting in the center. A silver number stand was placed on each table right next to the flowers._

 _There hostess lead Kurt and Blaine to the table labeled as #5, where three other people already sat, talking happily amongst themselves._

 _"Hey," one of the young men greeted as Kurt and Blaine took their seats. "My name's Darren. That's Logan and Julie."_

 _"Hi, I'm Blaine," he said, holding his hand out towards the boy that had spoken before nodding in the direction of the blonde, "and that's Kurt."_

 _"Nice to meet you guys," Julie said. "Is this your first time at one of these places?"_

 _Blaine shook his head and briefly filled them in on Pennsylvania._

 _"This is my first time," Kurt explained when the eyes turned towards him, waiting for his response._

 _"We came here a couple months ago," Julie said. "Basically its an interactive show. In the middle of the meal, someone is going 'die' and clues to who did it are slowly going to come to light as the night goes on."_

 _"Hello," someone spoke up from behind Blaine, and everyone at the table glanced up to find a woman with short brunette hair holding a pad of paper. "My name is Cadie. I'll be your waiter for the night . . ."_

 _Minutes later, their appetizer of two small plates of mini quiches, were placed on the table for the five visitors to share._

 _The group continued to talk happily amongst themselves until a loud 'bang' was heard from somewhere. By the time the group looked up, one of the actors for the night's performance was seen lying on the floor, not moving, signaling the start of the show._

* * *

Not all of their dates had been as exciting or expensive as their first, but it had definitely been a memorable one. Anything could be turned into a fun experience just by having Blaine at his side.

Kurt felt another tear running down his face at the thought, but quickly wiped it away when he heard his father enter the room.

"Hey Kurt," his father greeted, setting the grocery bags he had in his hands down on the island. "How was school today?"

Without looking up from his glass, the blonde shrugged his shoulders and heard the soft rustling of the plastic bags still.

"What's going on, Kurt?"

When the boy refused to even look up, Burt approached the table and took a seat by his son.

"Is everything okay?"

The teen slowly shook his head. "Blaine hasn't been in school all week. It's been a couple days since I've even heard anything from him," he admitted.

Burt shifted into a more comfortable position in his chair as he took in Kurt's words. "Did you guys have a fight or something? When did–"

"I went over to his house after school on Monday," Kurt spoke up, interrupting his father. He paused, taking a breathe before continuing. "Everything was going great . . . until his dad got home."

"What do you mean 'until his dad got home'?"

Hearing the hint of alarm in his father's voice, Kurt raise his head just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. His voice shook as he hesitantly explained. "Blaine hadn't told his parents yet that he was gay, and . . . when his dad got home . . . he caught us making out on the couch."

Burt let out a heavy sigh. "Probably wasn't the best way for the man to find out," he said out loud to himself, before turning back to Kurt to find tears pouring faster down the boy's cheeks. "Kurt?" he asked, his voice dripping with concern. Scooting his seat closer, he rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

That was when Kurt finally broke down and told him what Mr. Anderson had done.

As his son stuttered his way through what had happened during the altercation that transpired almost a week ago, Burt felt his blood pressure start to rise. His face felt flushed and his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back his growing anger.

Burt had worked hard to create an atmosphere in their home where Kurt could always feel safe and loved. He knew his son didn't always get that feeling when he was out in public, but knowing that his son couldn't even feel safe at his boyfriend's house was just too much.

"And I haven't heard from him since," Kurt cried, finishing his story. "I'm scared, dad. What if his father did something to him? He obviously wasn't happy to find out that Blaine is gay. What if he hurt him? What if–"

Burt stood up and quickly brought Kurt into a hug, holding him close. He did his best to comfort the boy as he sobbed into his shirt by rubbing his hand up-and-down his back.

It was normal for parents to have an idea in their heads of what kind of life they would hope for their children some day. Burt knew all to well how hard it could be to readjust your expectations for your kid's future, but that was still no excuse for what Blaine's father had done to Kurt . . . and possibly to Blaine.

"Listen," Burt whispered into Kurt's ear. "I'll take you back to Blaine's house tomorrow, okay? I promise, we'll find out what is going on over there."


	8. Chapter 8

The film that Blaine has to sit through in this chapter is from a video I found on YouTube; 'Creepy Anti-Gay Propaganda from 1960's - BOYS BEWARE' by nestpasnon.

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 _Saturday_

Blaine stifled a yawn as he plopped himself down in one the comfy seats next to Chandler in the camp's movie theater. When Morning Prayer had finished up, Mrs. Shaw had once again instructed them to follow her up the stairs in the Rec Center.

His stomach had been feeling weird for the last couple of days. It wasn't growling anymore. He just felt . . . empty. He hadn't noticed at first how Jeremiah's clothes were slightly baggy on him, and many of the boys' collarbones were sticking out far too much. Jeremiah may have said that the lack of food and water got easier to bear, but it certainly wasn't good for their health.

When day four rolled around, Blaine had also begun to feel lightheaded and had been getting a few dizzy spells. He wasn't sure if it was the lack of food or water that was causing the episodes. Probably both.

Not only that, but his muscles were still feeling sore from the shock treatment he had received the other day. He could have sworn that he could still feel the currents of electric energy piercing up his arms. As the lights clicked off in the room in preparation form their next 'educational movie', Blaine rubbed his hands over his arms in a pitiful attempt to stop the phantom shocks.

Fighting with himself to keep his eyes opened, Blaine read the title of the black-and-white film and shuddered slightly at the words.

" _Wait till you get to the 1960's video, 'Boys Beware'_ ," Jeremiah had warned them. " _It makes us sound like we're all pedophiles and rapists_."

He shared a look with Chandler, before laying back and making himself as comfortable as he could in his seat. Running a hand through his ungelled hair, Blaine steeled himself for the harsh words and stigmas that were coming.

 _"I'm Lieutenant Williams,"_ a voice rang out from the speakers as a man was seen heading towards his vehicle that was stationed in a parking lot. _"A police officer attached to the juvenile division. I'm on my way to Monroe Junior High School to talk to a group of young people."_ The voice paused as the car was shown driving by a group of preteens standing on the sidewalk with their arms sticking out into the street. _"That looks innocent enough, doesn't it? Lots of young people hitchhike. Seems like a good way to get from one place to another, but sometimes there are dangers involved that never meet the eye."_

The scene faded out, and a young boy standing in front of a playground appeared. _"Let's take the case of Jimmy Barnes. Jimmy played baseball all afternoon and he didn't feel like walking home, so he decided to thumb a ride. He'd done it a hundred times before."_ A car pulls up, and the kid jumps in. _"He didn't think anything was unusual when the driver struck up a friendly conversation. In fact, he seemed like a real nice guy. He asked Jimmy if he played baseball in the park often. Jimmy told him they practiced three times a week and played a rival group on Friday afternoon. The stranger was a good listener too and it only seemed like minutes before they had pulled up in front of Jimmy's house. When Jimmy got out, the stranger gave him a friendly pat. Then he told him he'd see him again, as he always drove by the park on his way home."_

The scene faded out and an image of the boy walking down a sidewalk appeared. The kid was tossing a baseball into the air and catching it in his glove. _"Sure enough, the following day when Jimmy was finished playing ball, the man was there waiting. They stopped at a drive-in and the stranger treated him to a coke. During their conversation, the man told him several off-colored jokes, but Jimmy had heard others before and it made him feel big too easily win the confidence of an older person."_

An image of a lake flashed on to the screen with a few swans floating in the water before the camera focused in on the man and boy standing on the share. _"The following Saturday, they went fishing together. By now, they were using first names. Ralph said it was friendlier. Jimmy hadn't enjoyed himself so much in a long time."_

 _Then during lunch, Ralph showed him some pornographic pictures."_ The voice explained as the man on screen took something out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. _"Jimmy knew he shouldn't be interested, but well he was curious. What Jimmy didn't know was that Ralph was sick. A sickness that wasn't visible like smallpox, but no less dangerous and contagious. A sickness of the mind. You see, Ralph was a homosexual . . ."_

"Here we go," Chandler sighed and slouched in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

 _"A person who demands an intimate relationship with members of their own sex. But by now, Jimmy felt a fondness for Ralph and they continued to go places together. Ralph was generous and took Jimmy to many interesting places and did many nice things for him."_ As the movie continued, the man and the boy were shown playing on a golf course, before switching to an image of the two walking down a street to an apartment building. _"He bought him presents and even gave him money, but payments were expected in return. You see, Jimmy hadn't recognized Ralph's approach soon enough. When Ralph first asked Jimmy to go fishing alone, he should have discussed it with his parents or teacher."_

 _"Finally Jimmy told his parents, and they reported it to the juvenile authorities. Ralph was arrested and Jimmy was released on probation into the custody of his parents."_

" _Jimmy_ was on probation?" Chandler questioned, putting emphasis on the kids name and raised an eyebrow at Blaine.

Blaine simply shrugged before turning back to the screen.

The scene had changed again, this time to an outdoor basketball court. _"But not all homosexuals are passive. Some resort to violence, as in the case of Mike Merritt. In the heat of competition, no one noticed the man who sat and watched, and when the game broke up and the others left, Mike decided to stay and practice a little longer."_

 _"The stranger joined him. He was friendly and it was better than playing alone, but after a few shots Mike realized he had already overstayed his time and suggested he better leave. The stranger told him if he'd like to stay longer, he'd be glad to drive him home when they finished. It sounded great to Mike. Chance to play longer and get a ride home too."_

 _"When they finished, the stranger told him he'd make a fine player someday if he got lots of practice. The companionship, the praise, the friendly attitude dispelled any misgivings Mike might have had about going with a stranger. He probably never realized until it was too late that he was riding in the shadow of death, but sometime that evening, Mike Merritt traded his life for a newspaper headline."_

As the story of Mike came to a close, two young boys appeared on the screen folding newspapers. _"As Denny and Jerry got the papers ready for Jerry's afternoon delivery, they only casually noticed the two boys that raced by in the afternoon traffic, and they didn't pay much attention to the car that drove up shortly afterwards, until the man called them over._

 _"'Have two boys been by on bicycles?'" The boys nodded they had. Could they recognize them if they saw them again. Well, Denny guessed he could. "'Then hop in,'" the man said. "'Those were stolen bikes.'" Without giving it another though, Denny got in and the car sped away as Jerry watched._

 _"He'd been told many times that if a friend got in a car with a stranger to write down the license number. It didn't seem to apply, but fortunately he marked it down. When he delivered a paper to Denny's house, he asked his mother if they caught the boys that had stolen the bicycles. Denny hadn't returned, so he told her the story and gave her the paper with the license plate number. Being a careful parent, she decided to call the police. Jerry supplied the necessary information and the stranger's car was quickly spotted. It's a good example of how important it is to always get the license number and description of any stranger who takes a young person off alone. No matter what they tell you."_

The image changed again as yet another story started. This time it showed three boys just walking out of a small building, the ocean was shown in the background. _"Public restrooms can often be a hangout for the homosexual."_

Chandler huffed at the comment, but didn't say anything.

 _"Bobby and his friends hadn't noticed the man who had been in the restroom when they changed and as it was getting late he suggested they take the shortcut under the pier, but the others preferred to take the more traveled way home."_ The group split up and the camera followed Bobby as he walked down the beach. A man was following about two car lengths behind him. _"When Bobby recognized the stranger as the man in the restroom, the shortcut under the pier didn't seem like a good idea anymore. After all, it's more fun to stay with your friends anyway. Bobby had made a wise decision. It may have saved his life."_

Scene switched back to Lieutenant Williams driving in his car as he pulled into a parking lot. _"The decision is always yours and your whole future may depend on making the right one. So no matter where you meet a stranger, be careful if they are too friendly, if they try to win your confidence too quickly, and if they become overly personal. One never knows when the homosexual is about."_

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at that.

 _"He may appear normal and it may be too late when you discover he is mentally ill. So keep with your group and don't go off alone with a stranger unless you have the permission of your parent or teacher."_

* * *

Kurt awoke early in the morning and reached for his phone that sat on his bedside table. It had become routine for him to check his cell phone first thing every morning since he started dating Blaine, a bubbly feeling would spread through his stomach at his boyfriend's friendly morning greetings. But this past week the usually enthusiastic custom had turned into the reappearance of the growing lump of despair that the blonde was regrettably getting used to having sitting in his gut.

With a heavy sigh, Kurt pushed the covers off of his body and headed towards the bathroom to run through a quick version of his morning skin care routine before throwing on the clothes he had laid out for himself the night before, and hurried downstairs to find his father.

* * *

As Burt turned the vehicle onto Blaine's street, Kurt began tapping his foot anxiously against the mat. He had been squirming around in his seat for half the trip, not being able to get comfortable. His fear over facing Mr. Anderson again twisted in his abdomen, along with his eagerness to see his boyfriend bubbling in his stomach, was creating a sickening tidal wave of emotion within him.

Sliding the gearshift into park in front of the house, Burt glanced over at his son. Kurt was facing away from him, staring at the building.

Burt rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder to get his attention. "You okay, kid?"

Kurt shrugged before looking down at his lap.

"You don't have to be scared, Kurt. I'm not going to let Blaine's father hurt you."

The boy quickly shook his head. "I know that." He turned back to the window. "It's not me I'm worried about."

With a sigh, Burt gave the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

Climbing the stairs leading towards the front porch, Burt knocked swiftly on the wooden door before taking a step back. A few paralyzing seconds drifted by before the twist of the doorknob was heard, and Kurt felt his heart stop in his chest.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Anderson asked, directing the question at Burt before glancing at Kurt and recognition flashed across the man's face. Kurt's heart jumped painfully in his chest.

"We've come to see Blaine," Burt stated in a calm voice.

Mr. Anderson sent a glare at Kurt's father. "He's not home."

"I want to see him," Kurt said in a small voice.

"Didn't I make it clear before? You're not welcome here," the man snapped, growing angry and Kurt slinked closer to his dad's side.

Burt wrapped his arm protectively around his son's shoulder, holding him close. "Can you let us in? Kurt hasn't heard from Blaine in awhile and he just wants to make sure the boy is doing okay," he said, clearly struggling at this point to keep his voice level.

"I told you," Mr. Anderson growled. "My boy is not home."

"No offense, but after what Kurt told me happened here earlier this week, I'd like to verify that for myself," Burt stated firmly, irritation growing in his voice.

Mr. Anderson blinked in slight surprise at the accusation. "You think I've done something to Blaine?"

"You attacked _my_ son," Burt snapped back, giving Kurt's shoulder a squeeze. "Why shouldn't I suspect you of child abuse?"

Mr. Anderson moved to slam the door in their faces, but not quick enough. Burt stepped forward and; using his foot, jammed the door open.

"Look, all we're asking is to have a look around to make sure Blaine is safe. As a parent, I would think you'd have a little more admiration to the fact that someone outside of your family cares about the well-being of your child," Burt barked. "You're lucky I haven't called the police yet on what you've done to Kurt. Don't give me a reason to call them now."

Mr. Anderson let out a low growl between his teeth before reluctantly opening the door just enough for Burt to enter into the foyer with Kurt quickly darting in behind him.

Blaine's father stared menacingly into Burt, his eyes burning daggers into his skin.

Staring right back at him, Burt spoke over his shoulder to his son. "Start upstairs, Kurt. If you find Blaine, call me."

Without another word, Kurt dashed in the direction of the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he bounded up them as quickly as he could.

"Blaine!" he cried running down the hallway towards his boyfriend's bedroom door. Not bothering to stop and knock, Kurt pushed on the door and stumbled into the space. "Blaine?"

Heart hammering in his chest, Kurt paused giving a quick scan of the room. The bed rested, neatly made, across from him, and the dark green paint covering the walls created an almost eerie appearance due to Kurt's current state of mind.

Everything looked as it had the last time Kurt was in the bedroom. None-the-less, he began to hurry around the space; checking the hidden corner between Blaine's bed and the wall, swinging open the closet doors, sticking his head into the attached bathroom. He even got onto his hands and knees to look under the bed, but Blaine wasn't there.

Not giving himself time to stew on his increasing panic, Kurt headed back out into the hallway and walked over to the door that he knew belonged to Blaine's parents.

Pausing for a second on the threshold of the room, Kurt pricked his ears for any sound of footsteps downstairs. He could make out a few mumbled words, but his father seemed to be doing his job of keeping Mr. Anderson busy. Taking a shaky breath, Kurt turned the doorknob and shyly stepped inside.

"Blaine?" Kurt called. His voice was barely above a whisper, but being in Mr. Anderson's bedroom was making his limbs shake. Switching on the light, Kurt gave a quick scan of the room from where he stood by the door. "Blaine?" he called louder, and waited a few seconds for any kind of response. Not getting one, Kurt retreated back out of the room, closing the door behind him with a sigh.

Now what? Where else could he be?

In all the movies he had seen of kidnapped and abused kids, the children were usually found in the bedroom, the basement, or tied up in a closet. By this point, Kurt doubted the closets were an option. If Blaine were some how in a situation where he was trapped in the house and unable to move, he would have cried out by now or have made some kind of noise to make his presence known . . . unless he was unconscious.

Kurt shook his head to banish the thought. He couldn't think like that. He had to find Blaine.

With the upstairs checked, Kurt headed back towards the staircase. The main level had a pretty open floor plan. There weren't many places that Mr. Anderson could have hidden Blaine there. Deciding the basement would be the next most logical place for the boy to be, Kurt walked through the kitchen and started down a hallway that lead towards the basement door.

He was almost to his destination when Kurt paused and backed up a few steps. Turning to glance at the door to his right, he hesitated, feeling his heart starting to pick up again.

When Blaine had invited Kurt over to his house for the first time, the huge and elegant house had amazed him. Seeing the look of awe on his face, Blaine had quickly offered to give him a tour of the place. Eager to see more of the house, Kurt had jumped at the offer and Blaine had led him around pointing out the different rooms and what they were traditionally used for in such a big house. He had been very patient with Kurt, allowing him a great deal of time to look and wonder around all of the available rooms, exploring the mansion . . . except for one.

Blaine had pointed out the door that led to his father's home office, but when Kurt had asked if he could look inside, his boyfriend had gotten a weird look on his face.

" _He doesn't let anybody in there without his permission_ ," Blaine had explained. " _I could get in a lot of trouble if we went in there and he wasn't home._ "

Now, standing outside that same door, Kurt flashed back to the last words Mr. Anderson had said before leaving him and Blaine alone in the living room.

" _Say goodbye to your_ friend _, and then meet me in my office._ "

His father's office. It was the last place Kurt had known that Blaine had been before they had lost contact with each other. Surely there would at least be a clue in there about what had happened to his boyfriend, but the idea of going into the one room in this house that even Blaine had been afraid to enter . . .

Kurt could hear the voices in the foyer beginning to rise in volume. He probably didn't have much time left before Blaine's dad got tired of him snooping around in his house. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now.

Wrapping his hand around the doorknob, Kurt took a shaky breath before slowly opening the door and peered in.

The room looked like any other home office that Kurt had ever seen. A massive mahogany desk sat a few feet away from one wall, a filing cabinet set up behind it. A row of three bookcases stood side by side along another wall, filled with rows of books. Two comfy looking chairs sat in front of the desk for visits to sit.

Tiptoeing into the room, Kurt approached the huge desk and glanced at the computer screen on the table. An icon logo was bouncing off the sides of the screen, telling him that the system was in screen saver mode. Moving the mouse back and forth in quick gestures, the home screen lit up for him immediately. Sliding the mouse down to the bottom of the screen, Kurt clicked on the option to open the Internet. When it popped up, he led the pointer back towards the top to select the 'History' option. Screening down the list of things that Blaine's father had been doing lately, he couldn't find anything suspicious at first glance. It all appeared to be work related.

Clicking out of the Internet, Kurt moved on to the desk drawers. In the first two he tried, he didn't find much. A few pens and pencils, a box of extra staples, erasers, and a couple different sized notebooks. The bottom drawer on the left side was locked, which he decided to leave alone for now. If he had time, he could try searching for a key later. He moved on to the drawers on the right side of the desk.

Finding nothing of importance in the top drawer, Kurt slammed it shut and yanked at the next one. With the force of his tug, something rectangle shaped slid forward and tapped against the inside of the box.

Kurt paused, blinking down at the device. He would recognize that designer's case anywhere. It was Blaine's cell phone.

Picking it up, Kurt flipped the phone over and tried the power button but nothing happen. Dead.

He was about to close the drawer when something else inside caught his eye. A lone piece of paper was folded in half inside the box, 'Path of Restoration – Conformation Page' was typed across the top. Taking it out for a closer look, Kurt's heart thumped painfully in his chest and his breathing became erratic.

Folding the half piece of paper over again so it would fit into his pocket, the blonde stowed the phone away as well and headed back to the hallway.

Steeling himself at the end of the hall, Kurt took a shaky breath to calm his nervous as best he could. He couldn't let Mr. Anderson know that he was on to him. When he was sure he had his emotions in check, Kurt stepped out of hiding and walked over to his father.

"He's not here," Kurt stated, interrupting whatever the two men had been discussing.

Mr. Anderson sent him a smirk. "Like I said."

Kurt sensed his father was about to say something and quickly spoke up before he could. "Dad, can we go?"

Burt gave him a weird look. "But I thought you–"

"Now, dad," Kurt emphasized, and made a beeline for the door. "Lets go."

Heading straight for the car, Kurt could hear his father hurrying to catch up.

"Kurt? Kurt, what happened?" Burt demanded behind him. "Did you find something?"

The boy spun around a few feet from their parked car and pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it over to his father.

Unfolding the page, Burt stared at it perplexed. "'Path of Restoration'?" he read. "I don't get it. What is this?"

"It's a camp for gay kids," Kurt explained, feeling tears appearing behind his eyes. "Dad, I–I think Blaine's dad sent him to a conversion camp."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 _Saturday Continued_

Kurt sat in the passenger seat of his dad's car. The confirmation page that he had found in Mr. Anderson's desk drawer was getting crumpled in his fists as he rocked back and forth in the seat. Tears were streaming down his face.

"We'll find him, Kurt." He could barely hear his father's words over his heavy sobbing. "I promise. Let's head home. We'll think of something."

"No!" Kurt cried. His heart felt like it was being ripped into pieces. "I-it's been a w-week already, d-dad. I-if I'm right . . . If B-Blaine really is at th-that c-camp . . ."

"I know, Kurt. But we have to be smart about this. They aren't going to let us just waltz onto the campgrounds, find Blaine, and leave with him. We have to think this through. We need a plan."

Kurt knew his dad was right. They should take a step back and decide what they were going to do, but the idea of Blaine; the boy he loved, being hurt and tortured . . .

Sitting back in the leather seat, Kurt hugged his legs to his chest trying desperately to hold himself together.

* * *

Arriving back home, Kurt charged through the front door and ran straight upstairs to his room. Pulling Blaine's phone out of his pocket, he flopped onto his mattress and reached down to grab his phone cord, and plugged in the device. An image of a battery appeared on the screen with a thin red strip boarding one side, letting him know the device was charging. Setting the phone down on his nightstand to wait, Kurt curled up onto his side.

A strong flow of tears was still pouring down his cheeks as he hugged his arms around his chest. Closing his eyes, Kurt allowed images of his boyfriend to appear behind his eyelids.

Kurt was shaken by how easy it was to picture his Blaine huddled up scared in a dark corner, hugging his knees to his chest, crying in fear and pain. He wanted nothing more than to hold his boyfriend close to him, kiss his tears away, and be able to reassure him that he was safe and that he wouldn't let anybody ever touch him again.

Turning his face into his pillow, Kurt mumbled into the soft surface.

"I'll find you, Blaine. I promise."

* * *

Knock . . . knock . . . knock . . .

Kurt groaned and raised his head a few inches from his pillow. When had he fallen asleep?

"Kurt?" Carol's voice drifted in through the door.

"What?" the blonde moaned out before falling face first back onto his pillow.

There was a short pause before his stepmother continued. "Lunch is going to be ready soon."

The boy let out a muffled reply into the cushion, knowing full well that the woman on the other side wouldn't have heard him.

"Come down now, Kurt. Your father wants to see you before we eat," she said before the sound of footsteps was heard walking away from his door.

With a groan, the blonde rolled on to his side to pull the cord out of the phone he had set up to charge before he had taken his nap. Trying the power button again, he was now greeted by a list of unopened texts and voicemails that Blaine had received within the last week.

Scrolling down to the bottom of the list, Kurt sat up as his eyes landed on the first unopened message Blaine had received that he hadn't had the chance to open. It was the message he, himself, had sent Blaine to let him know that he had made it home okay on Monday. He had sent the text only about an hour after he had left the boy's house. His gel-haired boyfriend hadn't even had the chance to open it before getting his phone taken away from him.

With another soft sigh, Kurt set the phone back down on the table and grudgingly headed down the stairs to find out what his dad wanted to see him about.

"In here, Kurt," his father's voice rang out as he made his way down the staircase. The sound came from the direction of the living room.

Burt was sitting on the couch with his laptop open in front of him when Kurt entered. Glancing up from the screen, his father patted the cushion next to him, signaling for his son to take a seat.

"I've been doing some research on that camp," his dad explained as Kurt joined him. "Online, it claims to be focused mostly on religion. They use prayer and group therapy meetings to help influence the kids that go there. According to this, they believe that by simply changing your believes and thought processes, they can 'cure' anyone of their sexuality."

"You don't believe that." The statement came out sounding more like a question.

"Of course not," his dad stated firmly, looking over at his son with a sincere expression on his face and placed a comforting hand on the boy's knee. "You can't change who you are. I know that." Turning back to the screen, he continued. "I found an email to contact their front office. I typed up something that I'm thinking about sending them." Burt moved the curser towards the top of the screen and clicked on the second tab he had up.

Sliding the laptop closer to Kurt, Burt waited for his son to read the message.

 _Dear Sir/Madam,_

 _I am writing to enquire about setting up a time soon for my son and I to get a tour of your campgrounds. My son came out to me as gay a little over a year ago and I have been struggling with getting him back on the right track ever since. Wanting the best for my son, I have been looking into several different campuses and would be interested in gaining more insight on your camp and what you provide there. Please get back to me as soon as possible._

 _Burt_

Reading the words, Kurt entangled his fingers together in his lap. He knew his father didn't mean those words, but just knowing that the man had typed them with his own hands made his stomach queasy.

"Telling them that I am looking into other camps as well should keep them from haggling us about trying to keep you there, but it would also give us an excuse to get onto the grounds to look around." Glancing at his son, Burt took note of the boy's paler then usually cheeks. Kurt looked like he was going to be sick and Burt returned his hand to his knee. "Look, I don't have to send it. We could think of another way to get in there."

"No," Kurt said coldly. "Send it."

"Kurt–"

"We have to get in there somehow, dad," the boy said, and Burt was relieved to hear some emotion coming back into his voice. "This could be the quickest way to do it."

"Your sure?" Burt asked, studying Kurt's face. The kid still looked nauseous, but he slowly nodded his head.

"Just – Just don't leave me at any point while we're in there. I . . ."

Burt gave the kid's knee a squeeze. "Not a chance."

With one last concerned look towards his son, Burt turned back to the computer and pressed 'Send'.

* * *

Saturday afternoons, Blaine learned, were dedicated to chores.

After lunch, the counselors had broken everyone up into groups based on their housing letters before each was lead out towards different locations of the campgrounds. Blaine's group was instructed to clean the ground floor of the Rec Center. Each of the boys in his housing unit had been assigned to different rooms to clean, which was how Blaine found himself by the camps indoor pool with a long handled net in his hands.

From what Blaine had observed during his first week at the camp, it really didn't appear as if any of the boys ever got to use any of the special facilities that were available in the Rec Center. The one time he had entered the gym room upstairs, there were only counselors' present that were working on the machines, and he assumed the same was for the pool. The workers probably even got to watch real movies in the theater room upstairs instead of the so-called 'educational' films he was being forced to sit through on occasion. As far as Blaine could tell, all the facilities were mostly just for show.

When he first entered the poolroom, Blaine was shocked to see the condition of the water. There was so much dirt, leaves, sticks, and pebbles swimming around on and below the surface. How so much outdoor trash could end up in an indoor pool baffled him at first. Honestly, it wouldn't have surprised him at all if some of the counselors had dumped bags worth of debris into the pool just to give him more work to do.

Someone had laid out a big, dirty looking plastic sheet that he was told to dump all the debris on to so it could be taken outside later. It didn't take long for Blaine to get himself into the routine of collecting sticks and leaves inside his net and dumping them on the designated location.

It was very mundane and repetitive work, but Blaine didn't mind. It gave him the perfect excuse to daydream about Kurt. If it weren't for the counselor that was sitting in a nearby chair watching him the whole time, he would have found the whole experience somewhat relaxing. Anything was better than being tortured in those cement buildings again.

He couldn't help the small smile that played along his face as images of his beautiful boyfriend flashed by inside his head. He could easily recall the sensation that had swam through his body during their last make out session on his living room couch. The feeling of Kurt's lips on his, the boy's hands touching his clothed skin, the–

Blaine flinched when he felt the painfully familiar sensation of an electrical shock run up his arm and he nearly dropped the net in his hands. Gasping, he glanced down franticly at his hands, turning his palms up and down, but there was nothing there. There were no wires taped to his fingertips. No cold metal cuffs secured around his wrists preventing him from leaving. No daunting box assigned to release the painful shocks across his skin. Taking a shaky breath, he ran a hand through his curly hair and fought to gain control over his racing heart rate.

It was happening already. He couldn't even think about his boyfriend anymore without feeling the painful reminders that he was supposedly wrong in having romantic feelings for the boy.

Tears began to pool behind Blaine's eyes threatening to emerge and run down his face, but he fought them back and quickly returned to his work, terrified of the possibilities of what the counselor watching him would do for 'taking a break'.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 _Sunday_

"Oh my god," Rachel sighed, staring down at the piece of paper in her hands before raising her head to look Kurt in the eyes. "You don't really think he's . . . That Blaine is . . ."

Mercedes snatched the confirmation letter out of her friend's hand. "It says so right here." She used her finger to guide over the chart. "Blaine's name is on this form. His dad did sign him up to go."

Finn and Kurt had invited the two young women over to their house, where all four of them were currently all gathered around, lounging on Kurt's bed.

"One of my dads' was sent to a similar camp when he was a teen," Rachel continued. "They didn't tell me much about it. Just enough to know it wasn't a nice place."

"I can't believe his father would do this," Finn added, shaking his head. "I mean, I know not all parent's are excepting of their kids sexuality, but sending him to a place like _that_?" He motioned towards the paper.

"It's not like they announce on their homepage that they torture their campers," Kurt muttered into his knees as he sat back against his headboard. Tears were prickling in the corners of his vision.

Rachel stared at him, bewildered. "You think his dad doesn't know what's going on in there?"

Kurt shrugged, staring down at his feet as he hugged his legs to his chest. "My dad and I are working on a plan to get him out."

"Sure," Mercedes nodded, "but what about when he _does_ get back? Is he even going to be okay after going through something like this?"

"It's only been a week."

"A lot can happen in a week, Finn!" Rachel snapped, sending him a glare. Realization suddenly flashed across her features. "Oh god, we _are_ going to need to find a twelfth member for Sectionals."

"Seriously?!" Mercedes cried, letting the paper fall out of her hands to land on the bed between them. "Is that really all you care about? One of our team members could be getting tortured at this very minute, and all you can think about is that stupid competition?!"

"Of course I'm worried about Blaine!" Rachel defended. "But Sectionals is in a week. Even if we can get him out of there before then, I doubt he's going to be in the right state of mind to be able to perform with us."

* * *

Blaine sat with his new friends, Jeremiah and Chandler, in the lounge located in the lobby of the Rec Center. Group with Maria Shaw had just ended, and they now had the rest of the afternoon to themselves.

"Are you okay?" Jeremiah asked softly, staring down at Blaine's arms.

Lost in thought, Blaine hadn't even realized he had been rubbing his forearms again. It had already become a habit.

Blaine couldn't help thinking about Kurt. Images of his beautiful boyfriend were constantly flowing through his head. Where was he? What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about him? He couldn't help it. He missed the boy terribly. But now, accompanying the thoughts, was always a sharp current running through his skin. Soothing the area helped, and was able to give him some comfort as his thoughts drifted towards Kurt. Luckily, he hadn't experience another phantom shock as intense as the one he had had yesterday.

In answer to Jeremiah's question, Blaine simply shrugged his shoulders. Hoping to divert the conversation away from him, he turned to see what Chandler was doing next to him.

The boy to his left had a notebook open on his lap, busying himself with a sketch. Leaning towards him, Blaine watched as the kid's pencil smoothly slid across the paper. On the page was a gray sketch of a woman sitting on a bench reading a book. The drawing was amazing.

"Who is that?"

"My mother. She passed away a couple years ago," Chandler said, moving the tip of his pencil away from the surface, studying his work. He let out a sad sigh before continuing, not taking his eyes off the picture. "She was perfectly fine with me being gay. Once she passed, my dad didn't know what to do with me anymore. Things just got worse from there."

"Hey," a voice spoke up, and all three boys turned to find the redheaded boy from their group meetings looking back at them. The kid shuffled his feet shyly. "Is it okay if I join you?"

Blaine gave the kid a small smile. "Of course, Charlie," he said and motioned to one of the seats near them.

The group sat in silence for a while. Chandler went back to work on his drawing, which Blaine had to admit was very good. He couldn't help but watch his hand as he continued to glide the pencil along the paper as he added in a pond into the foreground.

"How old are you?" Jeremiah's voice broke the silence, and Blaine looked up to see him studying Charlie. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Twelve," the red head explained.

"Twelve?" Blaine jumped in. "You're only twelve and your parents sent you _here_?"

Charlie shrugged. "My parents are both really strict Christians. I came out to them a couple weeks ago . . . Obviously it was a bad idea."

Blaine just nodded sadly.

"It was pretty brave of you to come out at your age," Jeremiah added, raising an eyebrow in question and sent the kid a smirk.

The kid blushed and hung his head, but a small smile could still be made out on his face. "There was this guy in my class back at school," Charlie said, lowering his voice as the subject switched to the topic. He shrugged before glancing up, the kids red hair making his cheeks look even rosier then they probably were. "I don't know if he's gay, but . . . I don't know. I was excited and wanted some advice on what to say to him, so I brought up the topic with my dad. He seemed happy to help me at first . . . until he realized I was talking about another boy."

"Sounds like Blainey is the only one of us that has a boyfriend on the outside," Jeremiah grinned, keeping his voice low. He leaned over to nudge said boy in the arm with his elbow.

"Really?" Charlie asked, his eyes growing wide.

Blaine nodded. His lip perked up on one side in a small grin.

"What is his name anyways? I don't think you ever told me," Jeremiah noted.

"Kurt."

" . . . And he's not here?"

Blaine turned his gaze back to their youngest conversationer and shook his head. He had never been more relieved about Burt's complete support towards Kurt and his sexuality.

"What is he like?" Chandler spoke up, suddenly joining into the discussion. "Your boyfriend?"

The smile on Blaine's face grew. It didn't take long for him to find himself lost in his discussion about his boyfriend. He did feel a slight prickling travel up his arms, but he quickly brushed the sensation away with his hands as he continued with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Kurt's amazing," Blaine gushed. "He is strong, both mentally and emotionally, and he's usually very resilient when it comes to people's negative comments about him in the school hallway. He is a very kind person, always willing to help out his friends whenever he can. Loves fashion, and he creates a lot of his own outfits."

"He makes his own clothes?" Charlie interrupted.

Blaine gave a soft chuckle, remembering the outfit his boyfriend had put together for his junior prom last year. "He can. Mostly he takes an outfit that has already been created and adds his own little flair to it. And he can sing! He has the most beautiful soprano voice."

"Kurt is also very sweet," Blaine continued. "He shows care and sympathy towards his friends and family, but he can also be very catty as times, as well. He's not afraid to tell you what he thinks. And–"

"Who is _Kurt_?" a voice snapped, interrupting Blaine's rambling and all four boys turned to find one of their counselors, Sebastian Smythe, glaring right at the curly haired boy.

All four of the boys stared back, gaping at the man. No one wanted to be the first to break the quiet.

"I said, 'who is Kurt'?" he asked again, taking a menacing step towards the group.

"N-no one, sir," Blaine managed to squeak out.

"Really?" Smythe asked, a sly grin appearing on his face. "Didn't sound that way to me."

The next thing Blaine knew, a searing pain prickled its way across his scalp as the man reached down to grab a fist full of his curly locks. He let out a small cry in desperation when he felt himself being pulled to his feet and dragged out the door of the Rec Center.

Blaine was yanked by his hair down the paved walkway in the direction of the torture chambers. He tried not to scream out in pain from the excruciating tugs to his scalp, instead letting out low groans in protest.

Coming to a sudden stop in front of one of the buildings, Blaine's vision started to grow dark from the constant brutality to his scalp. As Smythe dug out the keys to unlock the door, he attempted to twist out of the man's grip but it only caused another string of pain to radiate down his neck.

The boy barely registered being yanked down the poorly lit hallway and was relieved when the counselor finally let go of him to shove him into one of the rooms. Stumbling into the space, Blaine rubbed at his sore head before turning to investigate his new surrounds.

Blinking in surprise, he took note of the lack of a table and screen in the room. A wash of relief seeped through him at knowing that he wasn't going to be electrocuted again . . . and then his eyes landed on the huge metal hook that was hanging down from the ceiling about a foot over his head. Blaine's stomach clinched painfully in fear.

"Take off your shirt."

Blaine spun around at the command. His body trembled under Smythe's glower and he backed up a few steps in alarm. Doing his best to put on a brave face, he tried to calmly shake his head. He wasn't sure yet what form of torture the giant hook was going to be used for; or why he had to remove his shirt in preparation for it, but he was certain he didn't want to find out.

The counselor was not happy by the response. Stepping farther into the room, Smythe slammed the door closed behind him without taken his eyes off of Blaine.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice sounding darker than before, "or your punishment will be more severe."

Blaine couldn't help the soft whine that escaped his lips at the thought. Petrified with fear, he did as he was told and lifted his shirt up and over his head.

In the brief seconds it took Blaine to remove the layer passed his eyes, Smythe stalked up until he was mere feet in front of him and he jerked back at the sudden approach.

Ripping the fabric out of the boy's hands, the counselor tossed the shirt in the direction of the wall and snapped a metal cuff around one of the kid's wrists. Not recalling where the man could have gotten the instrument, Blaine blinked down at the offending shackle in surprise.

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Smythe dragged him over until they were standing under the hook that was swinging slightly back-and-forth. Tossing the foot long chain over the upside down arch, the man yanked Blaine's other wrist up high enough to secure it into the other cuff. Due to his short stature, Blaine was forced to stand on his tiptoes causing an almost instant strain on his wrists.

Heavy footsteps behind him told Blaine that the man was walking away for the moment. Shivering in the cold room, he turned his head over his bare shoulder to try and see what the councilor was doing . . . and watched as Smythe removed a strip of leather from a clip that was hanging on the wall.

Blaine face paled and he suddenly felt lightheaded. A tremor in his hands began, and he struggled to keep himself from screaming out in fear.

"No," he moaned in desperation. "No, p-please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

A sly smile stretched across Smythe's features, as he clearly enjoyed hearing Blaine's fearful pleas. The man curled the whip around in his hand, forming an 'O' shape hanging down from his grip.

"No you're not," Smythe snarled darkly. "Not yet, but you will be. You don't understand it yet, but you are sick. The feelings you have towards that boy . . . _Kurt_ , was it?" He continued as he slowly walked around Blaine, suspended in the center of the room. "But don't worry. I'll help you see the truth."

Blaine tried to push himself up high enough to draw the chain over the opening in the hook. If he could just get loose from the swaying trap he found himself in he would at least stand a chance of escaping, but it was no use. Being forced onto his tiptoes, he wasn't able to gain enough leverage to push the chain up high enough.

As Blaine struggled with the cuffs, he could sense Smythe lining up behind him. A soft swooshing sound was heard as the man prepared to strike the first blow.

 _One . . ._

A blinding sharp sting seared up Blaine's spine at the first crack of the whip. Tensing up, he hissed through his teeth as he waited for the pain to pass, but he wasn't given time to get used to it.

 _Two . . ._

 _Three . . ._

He wanted Kurt.

 _Four . . ._

 _Five . . ._

He needed Kurt.

 _Six . . ._

 _Seven . . ._

Screaming out in pain, Blaine prayed for the agony to stop.

 _Eight . . ._

 _Nine . . ._

With each swing of the whip, Blaine's skin softened and grew even more tender to the point where his whole back felt like it was on fire.

 _Ten . . ._

* * *

Please leave me a review! I love hearing what you guys think. The next chapter will be up soon. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 _Monday_

Kurt yawned as he staggered his way into the kitchen Monday morning. Pulling out the loaf of bread, he got to work preparing some toast for his breakfast. He was just taking the slices out of the toaster and putting them on his waiting plate when he heard Finn bounding down the stairs.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn greeted, opening up the pantry to retrieve a box of cereal. "You doing okay?"

The blonde simple shrugged. He knew if he tried to talk the flood of tears would just emerge again.

Before the taller boy could say anything else, Burt walked into the room with his laptop open in his hands. "I got a reply from that camp last night, Kurt," his dad explained, taking a seat at the island. "They said we can come in for a tour at ten o'clock."

Kurt's heart jumped into his throat and he felt his pulse quicken. "Today?"

Seeing the look on his son's face, Burt nodded before hesitantly asking, "You sure you want to do this?"

Kurt had to force himself to nod. "The chance to see Blaine again? I have to go." He turned to Finn who was just sitting down with his breakfast. "You'll let everyone in Glee know what's going on?"

His stepbrother nodded. "Of course."

"Alright," Burt relented. "I guess you might as well just stay home today then. We'll head out in a couple hours. Okay?"

"Okay," Kurt whispered.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry.

* * *

Kurt frowned at the arch, announcing the camp's name as his father slowed down the car to make the turn.

His hands had been folded tightly in his lap for most of the trip, causing a dull ache in his fingers as he finally forced them apart. Leaning towards his window, Kurt studied the landscape of the campgrounds. This was it. This had to be where Blaine had spent the last week of his life. A strong surge of adrenalin rushed through Kurt and he was suddenly antsy to get out of the car.

It seemed to take forever for his father to bring the car to a stop in the parking lot. As soon as Burt put the gearshift into park, Kurt jumped at the door determined to find Blaine, but before he could get the door to open he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't just go running off on me," his dad demanded. "Remember, I need you to stay close. You need to try and relax." Burt nodded in the direction of the office building. "If they found out the real reason why we are here . . ."

Kurt hesitated with his fingers gripping the door handle. He didn't want to be patient. He wanted to jump out of the car and run onto the grounds screaming Blaine's name until he found him, but in retrospect his dad was probably right. That tactic would most likely not get him very far.

Forcing his muscles to relax, Kurt slowly nodded his head before more calmly turning to open his door and hopping out.

While he waited for his dad to get out and move around to the other side of the car, Kurt scanned the surrounding area. A fairly busy intersection seemed to boarder the far left corner of the camp, right by a building with a cross-mounted on it. A dense covering of trees stretched for a ways to the right, while behind him extended acres of wide-open fields. There didn't seem to be another building in any direction for miles.

Feeling a hand wrap around his shoulders, Kurt's attention was brought back to his father.

"You ready for this."

Kurt just nodded, and they headed together for the front door of the office.

A woman with curly dark brown hair looked up from her computer screen as they entered. "Hello. You must be the Hummel's?" she asked.

Burt nodded. "That's right. I'm Burt Hummel and this is my son, Kurt." He gave his son's shoulder a squeeze.

The woman glanced back down at her computer screen. "You're not planning on dropping him off today, correct? This is just to see the campus?"

Kurt glanced fearfully up at his father, but Burt simply nodded his head again.

The woman nodded back before turning to retrieve something from her desk drawer. "Pin these on your shirts then," she said, tossing something onto the table, "and we can go ahead and get started."

Kurt stepped forward to get a better look at what she had placed in front of them; visitor passes. He quickly pinned one onto his shirt, and waited for the next instructions. He would do anything to get the chance to see Blaine again.

"Well, my name is Amelia Banks," the woman explained, standing up from her seat and extending her hand towards him, which Kurt reluctantly accepted in greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Kurt," she added. Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Banks want back to addressing his father again, sending him a warm smile. "This way."

Kurt and his dad shared a baffled look, before obediently following Mrs. Banks back out of the building.

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask," the woman said as they started walking farther onto the grounds. "Over there is–"

"Where is everyone?" Burt asked, interrupting her. His arm had quickly returned to its place around his son's shoulders after exiting the office.

It wasn't until his father had said something that Kurt realized he was right. He didn't know what he had expected to find once inside 'Path of Restoration', but it wasn't this. The place looked abandoned.

Mrs. Banks frowned at the interruption. "The boys are all over at the church right now. Mandatory prayer service," she explained, pointing towards the chapel that Kurt had noticed earlier before picking right back up where she left off. "Over there is student lounge and the other five are housing for the campers. Each one includes two bathrooms and ten bedrooms . . ."

Kurt let her voice dissolve into muffled sounds in his ears as he scanned the campgrounds. The campus didn't seem that big. He wondered if they technically owned much of the surrounding land. It would help them create a more secluded and private place for them to do what they wanted to their campers.

"And this is our Rec Center," Mrs. Banks stated, bringing Kurt out of his thoughts as they drew closer to a huge building behind the student housing circle.

"Can we check out the Church first?" Kurt heard himself ask. If that was were all the boys were right now, that meant Blaine as well.

"There is a service going on right now," she reminded him. "I don't think–"

"I'll be quiet," Kurt intervened, and he felt his father give his shoulder another squeeze in warning but he ignored him. If that was where Blaine was, he had to get in there. He doubted he would be able to spot his boyfriend in the crowd of young boys, but just getting to be in the same room with him again . . . "Please?"

* * *

"'Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God,'" the Pastor spoke into his microphone as he read the lines from the Bible open in front of him.

Blaine blinked up at the stage in front of him. Lately, he had been finding it harder and harder to stay awake during the day. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep.

Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, he did his best to quiet his yawn. Scooting back on the wooden bench to lean against the backboard, he let out a low hiss as his fresh injuries from last night rubbed painfully against the surface.

"You okay?"

Avoiding his eyes, Blaine gave a small nod to the concern in Chandler's voice.

He knew the boy probably didn't believe him, but before his friend could question him farther the soft creak of hinges was heard behind them. A handful of the boys, Chandler and Blaine included, turned in their seats to find the doors to Church opening up. Most of the crowd quickly turned back around after seeing that their new visitors didn't pose any threat to them, but not Blaine.

His eyes widened in shock at the group of three individuals who had quietly stepped inside the Church to stand in the back. The young woman he instantly recognize as Mrs. Banks, the lady in the front office that had given him and his father the tour last week, which seemed to be what she was doing now. Standing next to Mrs. Banks was a chubby older man, wearing a baseball cap . . . and with him stood a kid his age with beautiful porcelain skin.

"Oh my god," Blaine whispered, just loud enough for Chandler to hear next to him.

"What?" His friend turned back around to glance at the group again, clearly not understanding what was happening.

"That's him," he attempted to explain, while peeking back over his shoulder in an effort to keep an eye on the boy without making it too obvious that he was no longer paying attention to the service.

"Who?" Chandler mouthed back, seeming to have the same idea of not wanting to get into trouble.

"My boyfriend."

That sparked an interest in his friend. "Kurt?"

Blaine nodded and turned back around in his seat to face forward once again.

"I'm sorry," Chandler breathed out in barely a whisper. "I guess he's ending up in the same boat as the rest of us."

Reaching out to grab his friend's wrist, Blaine shook his head. "No, you don't understand," he mouthed, desperate for his friend to recognize what this could actually mean for them. "Kurt's father is completely supportive of his son's sexuality. He would never, _ever_ , send Kurt to a place like this." He stole one more look over his shoulder. "I'm telling you, if they are here, they are looking for _me_."

* * *

Please leave me a review! Would love to hear from my readers! Thanks


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 _Monday Continued_

"Are you sure it was him?" Jeremiah asked skeptically, leaning forward across the table so he wouldn't be over heard by anyone else in the room.

"Of course I'm sure," Blaine snapped back. "You really think I wouldn't recognize my own boyfriend?"

As soon as the service had ended, Blaine and Chandler had headed straight for the cafeteria along with everybody else. Picking up their sandwiches from the lunch line, the pair met up with Charlie and Jeremiah at their usual table. Joining them, Blaine had quickly filled them in on who their mystery guests had been that morning at the Church.

For the first time in several days, Blaine didn't feel the tingling sensation in his arms when he thought about Kurt. He wasn't sure if that was due to the fact that he had only had a couple sessions of the therapy and it just wasn't sticking yet, or the pain in his back from the lashes was over powering it. Either way, he wasn't going to question it.

"So what?" Charlie asked, making sure to keep his voice low. "You really think he's here to find _you_?"

Blaine nodded. "I'm sure of it. His father wouldn't have brought Kurt here otherwise. It has to be about finding me."

"Okay," Jeremiah stated slowly. "Then what are you going to do? I doubt he would have been able to spot you at the Church. And his tour will probably be over soon, if it isn't already."

In all the excitement over seeing Kurt, Blaine hadn't thought of that. What if he was already gone?

Blaine shook his head, forcing the thought away. "I don't think so . . . I mean, he wouldn't risk coming all the way out here just to turn back like that."

"And what if he does find you?" Jeremiah continued as if Blaine hadn't even spoken. "There are councilors everywhere. It's not like you will be able to just walk off campus with him."

The dark haired boy shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the growing sense of doubt twisting in his stomach. "I don't know, but they're here. Maybe Burt has some kind of plan for if they find me."

As his friends continued to discuss the topic, Blaine snatched up his half eaten sandwich from his tray and took another couple of bites, finishing it off. Swallowing his meager meal, Blaine pushed his chair back and stood up from the table.

"I'll be right back," Blaine commented, before picking up his tray to drop it off in the pile, before turning to approach the councilor that was guarding the exit of the dining area. "Bathroom," he muttered under his breath and with a slight nod, the man didn't stop him from walking out.

Blaine sighed as he slowly made his way down the hallway towards the restroom. He hated his friends for calling out all the issues there were about getting out of this hellish camp with his boyfriend. Seeing Kurt again had sparked a heated flame inside him, and now, thanks to them his happiness was starting to dwindle. He had so few things to get excited about lately. Couldn't they just let him relish in his glee for a little while, even if there was little to no chance of his boyfriend's attempt at rescuing him would succeed?

Drifting closer to the restroom, Blaine was able to catch snippets of a conversation that was going on out of view in the sitting area of the lobby. Something about pamphlets and websites was being talked about from a female voice. Blaine was just nearing the door to his destination when the sound of another voice reached his ears. The soft, sweet, angelic voice belonging to the boy that he had falling in love with.

Kurt

He was right there! Just around the corner!

Blaine froze, staring at the wall that was blocking his view from the one person he needed the most right now.

"There are a few other camps spread out around Ohio . . ." the woman's voice spoke up again. This time, Blaine recognized it as Mrs. Banks.

Other camps? Were Kurt and his dad going to check out other locations to try and find him?

Blaine's breathing became shallow. Did this mean they were getting ready to leave? Kurt was so close. He had to talk to him before they drove off. If it weren't for Amelia Banks sitting there with them he would have ran over right then and enveloped his boyfriend in a tight hug, begging him not to leave him here, but he couldn't risk getting Kurt and his father in trouble for coming to this awful place.

"Do either of you have any farther questions for me?" Mrs. Banks asked.

There was a slight pause where Blaine pictured Kurt and his father sharing a look before turning back to the secretary.

"I don't think so," Blaine heard a deeper voice speak up hesitantly. He knew instantly that it was Burt, and his heart flurried in his chest. They couldn't leave yet!

The sound of fabric moving across one of the chairs reached Blaine's ears, telling him that Mrs. Banks had gotten up from her seat.

"Excellent. Well then, if you will just follow me, I can retrieve those pamphlets for you that I mentioned."

One-by-one, Blaine watched as the trio moved across the crown molding framed archway in front of him. First came Amelia Banks, her high heels tapping softly against the tiled floor with each step. Burt was not far behind her, his sneakers squeaking loudly as he walked. Then came the hesitant form of his boyfriend. He was sporting his tan half-sweater with a red button up shirt underneath. Blaine allowed the side of his mouth to perk up in a smirk at seeing him. Only Kurt Hummel could pull off a half-sweater.

Time seemed to slow down as Kurt gradually turned his head to look down the hallway, locking eyes with Blaine and he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.

* * *

Kurt sat up straight in one of the chairs in the lounge of the Rec Center lobby. Tension was flowing through his veins, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to not fidget in his seat.

Mrs. Banks had agreed to allow him and his father to stand in the back of the Church during the boys service for a few minutes at the beginning of their tour, which Kurt had used to scan his eyes over all the boys in the room, searching for his gelled, dark headed boyfriend, but he couldn't find him.

Afterwards, the woman had guided them through all the rooms in the Rec Center: the cafeteria, the pool, meeting rooms, movie theater, the gyms . . . None of which was helpful in locating his boyfriend. Now, Mrs. Banks had sat them down to discuss with them other locations where his father could take him to 'get fixed'. There tour was almost over, and he still hadn't found Blaine.

"There are some pamphlets in the office here that I could give you with more information. Websites are listed on them as well where you can go to gather more detail on how the whole process is done."

"Is there any way I could talk to some of the boys here?" Kurt asked, before quickly adding, "To get some inside information on the process." Somebody here had to know Blaine, and he stood a much better chance of getting an answer to where he was from one of the boys then from this woman.

Mrs. Banks paused, sending a deep frown in his direction as she studied him. "The kids have a packed schedule for the day. I don't think we'll be able to do something impromptu like that, but I might be able to arrange something for a later date if you wanted to come back to talk to someone," she explained.

Kurt shivered at the thought of having to come back here. Sure, everything appeared nice and friendly on the surface, but it wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest if they were covering up the bad stuff during their tours. The fact that they seemed to be trying to hide the boys away while showing him around didn't help in easing his feelings on the matter. And the way that Mrs. Banks tended to dodge a lot of his questions also wasn't helping his impression of the place.

"There are a few other camps spread out around Ohio . . ." the woman droned on, but by this point Kurt was tuning her out. He didn't want to hear about other camps where kids were being tortured daily. Instead, he allowed the sounds of chitchat, and pots and pans banging together from the cafeteria room close by to wash over him.

Lunchtime

Blaine . . .

"Do either of you have any farther questions for me?" Mrs. Banks asked, pulling Kurt back to what was going on in front of him.

Kurt shared a look with his father. The only real question they had at this point was about Blaine, but they couldn't very well ask her about him out right.

"I don't think so," Burt answered, turning back to lock-eyes with the secretary.

"Excellent," she exclaimed, getting to her feet. "Well then, if you will just follow me, I can retrieve those pamphlets for you that I mentioned." She then turned and started to head in the direction of the Rec Center's office located just to the right of the doors, her high heeled shoes tapping softly as she went.

Kurt sent his dad a pleading look as the man got up to follow the woman to the office. He wanted to pull his father back. He wanted to beg him to let him stay longer to perform a more valid search of the grounds, but what could Burt do? He doubted there was anything his dad could say to Mrs. Banks to allow them to explore the camp without an escort.

In the end, Burt left him with a sad look and a comforting squeeze to his shoulder before turning to catch up with Mrs. Banks. With a sigh, Kurt reluctantly followed at a much slower pace.

Kurt could still hear the murmurs of all the boys talking and eating in the cafeteria just down the hallway. How so many parents and guardians couldn't accept and let their kids be who they were weighed down on him heavily. He could have very easily have turned out like one of them, and it made him even more thankful to have his father's complete support. Blaine deserved that too.

Feeling a pull in the direction of the dining area, Kurt turned his head to gaze down the hall and his eyes locked onto another boy who was staring right back at him.

Kurt froze, drinking in the boy's appearance. He was wearing black pants with a dark blue polo shirt, which was hanging a little loose on his frame. A frown was plastered on his face, with dark circles under his eyes. Even from this distance, Kurt caught the hint of a pained expression on the kid's face, but the boy was doing a fairly good job of hiding it. His shoulders slumped slightly, and to Kurt the boy looked absolutely exhausted. His hair was a mess. It lay in a curly, frizzy pile on top of his head. But even un-gelled, Kurt would have recognized him anywhere.

Blaine!

The boy looked absolutely defeated. He had obviously been through so much in the last week, and a sharp pain twisted in Kurt's heart to know that he was suffering.

Kurt wanted to run to him, wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Let him know that he was going to be fine and that he was going to do whatever he had to in order to get him out of here. But his body felt weak with relief at finally seeing him after so long and his legs wouldn't move.

"Kurt?" Mrs. Banks called, interfering with the battle that was raging on in the blonde's head and he regrettably turned his eyes away from his abused boyfriend. "What are you doing? Are you coming?" She was clearly starting to get irritated with him.

"Uhm . . ." Kurt moaned between his teeth, and allowed his eyes to drift back to the boy standing just feet away from him; the boy that he came all this way to find.

Seeming to understand that he needed an excuse to go over to him, Blaine backed up a few steps and tapped his fingers against a square sign that was screwed into the wall.

"Can I use the restroom before we go?" Kurt blurted out with a little too much excitement in his voice as he turned back to look at Mrs. Banks. His father was standing behind her, sending him a confused expression but he ignored it. He could explain everything to him later.

Mrs. Banks narrowed her eyes as she stared back at him, and Kurt flinched under the glare. "Fine," she eventually snapped, "but hurry up."

Kurt nodded his head, jiggling it up and down like a bobble-head for a few seconds before turning back just in time to see Blaine disappearing through the bathroom door, and he hurried after him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 _Monday Continued_

"Blaine?" Kurt choked out as he pushed his way through the bathroom door.

Next thing Kurt knew, Blaine had pounced at him, wrapping his arms securely around his torso and pulled him close. Relieved to finally have the chance to hold him, Kurt quickly returned the gesture . . . and Blaine cried out in pain.

Kurt leaped back in surprise and stared at his boyfriend with a mixture of shock and concern. "Blai–"

"I'm fine," Blaine interrupted him, trying to wave it off.

"That didn't sound fine," Kurt said, skepticism dripping in his voice. Taking a step closer again, he laid a hand gently down on Blaine's shoulder. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

And Blaine abruptly burst into a fit of tears. Clutching onto the sleeve of Kurt's half-sweater, he stuttered his way through what had happened last night.

"I-It still stings, K-Kurt. It . . . " Blaine concluded as he sobbed.

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" Kurt asked, deep-seeded concern was written all over his face.

Without another word, Blaine turned around to lean against the sink allowing Kurt to step up behind him and gentle lift his shirt up a little. What greeted Kurt was an image of a dozen red, angry, lashes crisscrossing each other across the boy's back.

"Oh God, Blaine," Kurt muttered as he took in the wounds, trying to fight off the nausea that was now spinning in his stomach. "Hang on. Don't move."

Stepping away from Blaine, Kurt quickly grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the water to create a makeshift cold compress.

"This will probably sting a little," Kurt warned, taking his place behind Blaine and once again lifted up the boy's shirt.

Gently resting the towels along his lower back, Blaine flinched in response and his knuckles started to turn white due to his tightened grip along the edge of the sink. He did his best to hold back a scream, letting out a painful hiss between his teeth instead.

"I know, baby. I know it hurts," Kurt cooed, and rubbed his hand up and down Blaine's arm in an attempt to soothe him.

"I h-hate it h-here, Kurt," Blaine sobbed as his boyfriend continued to try and ease some of the pain out of his scarred back. "P-Please, you have t-to get me out of h-here."

"That's why we're here, Blaine," the blonde confirmed, moving the wet towels higher to reach the boy's upper back.

"H-How did you e-even find me?"

Kurt shrugged. "I knew something was wrong when you didn't show up for school last week, and weren't returning any of my messages." The blonde tossed the paper towels into the trashcan. "So, I went back to your house over the weekend to find out what was going on."

Blaine spun around in a panic. "Y-You went back there? After what happened the last time?"

"I told my dad everything. He went with me," Kurt quickly added in reassurance. He couldn't help the fluttery feeling that spun around in his stomach. Even after everything that Blaine had been through, Kurt's safety was still one of his main concerns. "Anyways, I found the conformation page in your dad's office. That's how I knew you were here. And I also found this." He pulled out Blaine's cell phone from one of his pockets and handed it to him. "I've already turned the ringer off, so no one will hear it when I try to text you."

Blaine took the phone and stared at it. "What do you mean? You're leaving me here?" Panic swam through his veins and he clutched at Kurt's sweater. "You can't – You can't leave me here! Kurt–"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Kurt soothed, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck; being mindful of the lashes on his back, and leaned his forehead against his. "I'm not leaving you, honey. I promise. I'm not going to leave you here."

"But, you said–"

"It's the middle of the day, Blaine. Counselors are everywhere. There is no way my dad and I will be able to get you out of here _right now_ ," Kurt explained gently. "Hopefully we can get you out this afternoon. I'll text you with the plan once I've talked to my dad."

Blaine moved his head into the crook of Kurt's neck, hugging him close while the blonde carefully wrapped his arms around the top of his shoulders.

They stayed like that for a few more seconds until Kurt broke the silence. "I should probably go," he whispered into Blaine's ear with a sad sigh. "That ' _Amelia Banks_ ' doesn't seem like the patient type."

Blaine let out a small chuckle at that and pulled away from his boyfriend's neck.

"Make sure you keep that phone hidden," Kurt noted, pointing at the device that was still in the boy's hand and watched as Blaine tucked it into his pocket, making sure his shirt covered the top of it that was sticking out slightly. "Only take it out when you are sure that it's safe to."

Blaine nodded his head. "I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, honey." Kurt left a soft kiss on his cheek. "I promise, I'll be in touch." He then turned to head for the door.

"Kurt?" Blaine called, just as the boy's hand had landed on the door handle and waited until he turned back to face him. "Is there any way we could get my friends out of here too?"

"Friends?"

He nodded again. "Chandler, Jeremiah, and Charlie."

Kurt bit his bottom lip gently as he thought it over. "Maybe . . . Let me talk to my dad about it. Okay?"

Blaine nodded his head once more, and then Kurt was gone.

* * *

"Well, I think that's everything," Mrs. Banks noted as she led Kurt and his father back into the direction of the office building. "If there is anything else I can help you with, our number is online. Feel free to call for more information."

Kurt clutched the pamphlets that Mrs. Banks had given him in his hand, wrinkling the paper in his tight grip. "I have a few more questions."

The woman turned to look at him. "Yes?"

A flood of questions was flying through Kurt's head. "What is the afternoon schedule like here?" Kurt asked. Once he started, he couldn't get them all out of his mouth fast enough. "Do the boys have any free time during the day? Are the counselors always hanging around? What about–"

"Slow down!" Mrs. Banks cried, definitely annoyed by him at this point.

A light pink hue coated Kurt's cheeks. He knew he was starting to push his luck, but he had just found Blaine. After seeing how distressed his boyfriend was from being in here he wanted nothing more than to get him out as soon as possible, but to do that he needed more information.

Mrs. Banks took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before she started. "Group meetings and therapy sessions are right after lunch, then the boys have some time for themselves. The counselors are always around. Being a gay conversation camp we need to make sure all of our boys are behaving like they should be." She turned to glare at him. "Any other questions?"

An image of Blaine's terribly mangled back flashed through Kurt's head. It hadn't appeared as if they had done anything to try and heal his wounds after his ' _punishment_ '.

"What about medical attention?" Kurt asked, glaring back at her and he felt his father's arm return around his shoulder. Burt leaned over slightly to whisper a warning into his ear and Kurt turned his glare onto him.

By the time Kurt turned back towards Mrs. Banks, she had progressed farther along the path, seemingly deciding to ignore his last question.

"What is going on with you?" Burt asked as he led Kurt in the direction of the parking lot. Unlocking the doors of their car, the two of them jumped inside. "You were probably starting to make her suspicious about our intensions."

"I saw Blaine."

"What?" A surprised look flashed across his face. "When? Where was he?"

"In the hallway." Burt raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, and Kurt rolled his eyes before elaborating. "The bathroom?" he reminded him sarcastically. "I saw Blaine just standing there in the hallway. The bathroom was an excuse to go and talk to him."

Burt nodded in understanding. "How is he?"

"Not good," Kurt sighed. He could feel his eyes getting wet as he thought about the boy's current condition. "He looks exhausted, dad, and skinnier. I don't think they are feeding him much."

Burt rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder, squeezing lightly, silently encouraging him to continue.

"He needs a doctor." Kurt turned away from his father, but he could feel the man's gaze lingering on him as his tears started running faster down his cheeks. "They whipped him, dad. His back . . . He needs a doctor."

"Whipped?!" Kurt heard his father gasp.

The blonde nodded. "It looks bad." He shuddered at the memory. "It didn't look like they provided him with any medical care afterwards either. What if it gets infected? We need to get him to a doctor."

His father nodded in agreement. "We will Kurt. I promise, whatever kind of help he needs after all this, we'll get it for him. Did you give him his phone back?"

Kurt nodded. "I told him to keep it hidden. The counselors will probably take it away from him if they find it . . . and punish him again."

Burt removed his hand from Kurt's shoulder. "At least we have a way to get in contact with him now. We need to start figuring out how we are going to pull this off."

"There is one more thing, dad," Kurt stated slowly.

Burt turned back towards him and raised an eyebrow to let him know he was listening.

"Blaine has made a couple of friends here. He wants to know if we can get them out too."

Burt turned away from him to look out the front window to gaze out at the campgrounds in front of them, and let out a soft sigh before answering. "How many are we taking about?"

"Three," Kurt replied. "Four if you count Blaine."

His father sat in silence for a few seconds before turning back to his son. "Are you hungry at all? We could grab something for lunch and talk about this some more."

Kurt simply shrugged. Lying back in his seat, he felt his stomach twist in despair as his father drove the car away from the campgrounds . . . and farther away from Blaine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 _Monday Continued_

Blaine couldn't help the happiness that radiated through him as he made his way back towards the dining hall. He tried to keep his emotions out of his facial expression while he walked back passed the counselor that was still guarding the exit and hurried back over to his friends' table.

They had all still seemed pretty skeptical after Blaine had told them that Kurt was going to try and get them all out of the camp tonight, but he tried not to let their distrust effect him. He knew his boyfriend. If Kurt said he was going to get him out of his hellish place, he knew the boy would find away to do it.

As lunchtime came to an end and the boys were escorted out in groups to their different afternoon 'activities', Blaine couldn't help but constantly check and make sure the phone was still in his pocket. He let his hand rest down by his side to cover the slight bulge in his pants to try and help hide it.

Even the act of being tortured again didn't seem that bad this time around. If he could just get through it today, he hoped his boyfriend would be able to pull through for him before his next scheduled treatment.

Afterwards, with the nerves in his hands still tingling from his latest torture regiment, Blaine quickly made his way to the closest bathroom. Slipping into one of the stalls, he dug out his cell phone, pushed a button to light up the screen, and grinned as a new message from Kurt popped onto the device.

* * *

"It's happening tonight," Blaine announced to his three friends as they gathered close together on the floor in the Rec Center lounge, their knees just barely touching each other in the circle.

"So, what exactly is the plan?" Jeremiah asked.

Blaine gave a quick scan around the lounge before pulling out the phone. "Charlie, keep a look out?" The boy nodded and Blaine brought up the text on the screen. "At sunset," the dark haired boy read from the device. "Kurt and his dad are going to park their car in the back of the lot. They want us to sneak around behind the housing buildings. All we would have to do is make it down the hill and into the car."

"But the office building is right there. Anybody could look out one of the window and see us heading down the hill," Chandler whispered in concern.

"There are no lights back there," Blaine pointed out. "The most they would probably see are dark forms running down the hill."

"Have you even considered how much trouble we could be in if we go through with this? What if we get caught? I can't see them taking an attempted escape lightly," Jeremiah noted to the group before focusing his attention on Blaine. "You think getting whipped was bad? What do you think they would do to us after this?"

"Look, even if they do see us running off, we would still have a head start on them. We just have to make it to the car," Blaine tried to get them to come around. "We still have a couple hours until sunset. Just think about it. Please?"

"I'm in."

Blaine turned to lock eyes with Charlie and grinned at him. "Really?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's a chance to get out of here. We probably won't get another opportunity like this. I'm in," he explained before turning away again to keep watch for any unwanted spectators.

Blaine looked between his other two friends. "Well?"

Jeremiah sighed. "Charlie is right. We won't get this kind of chance again." Reluctantly, the boy slowly nodded his head. "Sure, I'll come."

"Chandler?" Blaine focused on his last friend.

"I–"

He paused as Charlie elbowed Blaine and the group glanced up just in time to see a counselor walking down the hallway, and the dark haired boy quickly hid his cell phone under his thigh.

* * *

The sun had already disappeared halfway behind the distant trees, causing the plant life to transform into dark silhouettes, by the time Blaine and his three friends left out the front doors of the Rec Center and turned down the path to the right as if they were heading in the direction of the Church. Once they were out of sight of a group of counselors gathered in the quad, they turned left away from the Church and used the coverage from the back of the housing buildings as they slowly dodged their way closer towards the parking lot. Making it behind the building of housing unit 'A', the group sank down to sit in the grass, leaning back against the building.

"I still don't know about this, guys," Chandler wined, squirming nervously beside Charlie.

"There is still time if you want to turn back," Blaine whispered. "You don't have to come with us."

Chandler grew quiet as he studied his hands resting in his lap.

"Where is your boyfriend?" Jeremiah spoke up next to Blaine, and the dark haired boy scanned the empty parking lot in front of them.

"He'll be here," Blaine assured, when he couldn't locate Burt's vehicle. "The sun hasn't even set yet."

"What about Amelia Banks?" Chandler suddenly spoke up, and nodded in the direction of the office building to their right.

With the sun setting, disappearing behind the trees, the group of boys could easily make out the images of Mrs. Banks and two counselors wearing their trademark polo shirts, talking inside the structure.

"Don't worry about it," Blaine said, hoping he sounded confident. "Just because we can see them doesn't mean they can make us out in the shadows. It's going to be fine."

Charlie elbowed Blaine in the arm. "Someone's coming," he whispered pointing in the direction of the entrance to the parking lot.

Sure enough, Burt's van was pulling into the lot and slowly came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. A boy jumped out of the car a couple minutes later and slide open the door to the back of the van in preparation for the boy's dash down the hill.

"Is that him?"

Blaine nodded with a smile on his face, not taking his eyes off the boy in the distance. "Yeah, that's Kurt." He turned to look at his friends gathered around him. "Are you guys ready for this?"

Charlie nodded his head and stood up. "I'm ready to get out of here."

The red headed, twelve year old took a couple steps away from the other boys. Blaine, Jeremiah, and Chandler were just a few steps behind him when they heard a siren go off from somewhere and froze.

Blaine spun to his left to look in the direction of the office building. The door was now wide open with Amelia Banks staring in their general direction.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be able to see us," Blaine heard Jeremiah whisper in his ear.

Before Blaine could think of anything to say to that, Charlie yelled out a desperate "Run!" before turning and tearing down the hillside in beeline for the van that was waiting for them. The other three boys followed as fast as they could behind him.

A slight ache grew on Blaine's back as he ran. The way the muscles in his shoulders were moving as he ran was causing a spasm of pain to flow down his wounded flesh, but he did his best to fight back the discomfort. He just had to make it to Kurt. He would be fine once he reached his boyfriend.

Along with the blaring siren, Blaine could make out a few shouts from counselors chasing after them, but he didn't look back. It would have just slowed him down. Instead, he kept his eyes glued on his boyfriend who was jumping up and down in front of the passenger side door of the car, frantically trying to egg them on faster.

Charlie had already made it down and was leaping into the open door of Burt's car by the time Blaine and Jeremiah were halfway down the hill.

The impact of someone sliding against the grass and the barely audible cry through the raging noise surrounding them caused Blaine to pause and whirl around to find Chandler lying on his stomach on the lawn . . . with two counselors closing in on him fast.

"Chandler!" Blaine cried and started to head back to help him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't, Blaine," he heard Jeremiah's voice in his ear. "They will just catch you too."

"But . . ." Blaine turned back to Chandler just in time to see the counselors reaching the boy. A soundless cry came from the kid's lips as he was lifted up.

"Come on, Blaine. We have to go."

Blaine locked eyes with Chandler one last time and he felt his heart clinch in his chest as one of his friends was being dragged back towards the quad. Who knows what they were going to do to him . . . and it was all going to be his fault.

"Blaine, please!" he heard Kurt begging him through the ringing in his ears.

Tears pricking at the edges his vision, Blaine forced himself to turn away from the scene in front of him and chased after Jeremiah the rest of the distance towards the automobile that was waiting to take them away from the camp.

Kurt jumped into the open doorway and crawled towards the back of the vehicle just as Jeremiah was nearing his destination, and took a seat in the other opened space in the middle that Charlie had left unoccupied. Finally making it down the hill, Blaine joined his friends in the car and squeezed his way passed Jeremiah's legs to crawl into the back with his boyfriend.

"Go! Go! Go!" Charlie shouted over Burt's headrest as Jeremiah slide the door closed, muffling the sounds of the siren that was still ringing and the screaming of the counselors that were quickly approaching.

As Burt spun the car around and sped back out of the parking lot, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and rested his head down on the boy's shoulder, finally allowing the flood of tears to glide down his cheeks.


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry for the delay in updating. I've had a lot going on the last couple of weeks. Please leave a review. Thanks

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 _Tuesday_

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as Amelia Banks settled herself in her chair. A deep frown was stuck on her face as she slowly scanned her eyes around the group that had assembled in the meeting room.

Maria Shaw, the woman in charge of overseeing the boys group meetings, was sitting to her right. Most of the others gathered around were young men in their late twenties and early thirties, all of whom had been scheduled to be on the grounds during the time of the escape of three of their campers.

Amelia's grip tightened around the armrest of her chair and her teeth grinded over each other as she desperately tried not to lose control of her anger.

They had never had a boy escape from 'Path of Restoration' before, and in just a matter of minutes they had lost three . . . almost four. Amelia allowed the side of her lip to perk up slightly as an image of Chandler probably huddling, terrified in his room right now, grew behind her eyes. They would have to decide on the right form of punishment soon.

The silence in the room was quickly growing uncomfortable. Eyes were skillfully avoiding making contact with her's by tactfully glancing at anything that wasn't her. Amelia couldn't help but be slightly pleased as she observed several of her co-workers shifting restlessly in their seats under her continuingly piercing stare.

Allowing the fire to return to her eyes, Amelia sent another glare around the room. "Can someone tell me what the hell happened last night?!" she finally growled through her teeth, her voice piecing through the previously dead quiet room.

As the lack of cooperation in the space proceeded, Amelia felt like she was about to explode.

"Come on, guys. Someone has to know something," Maria thankfully jumped in before Amelia completely lost control of her emotions. "Did anything not under the ordinary happen yesterday before the boys escaped?"

Most of the workers that were gathered shook their heads negatively or shrugged in tired apprehension, while the rest proceeded to stare off with vacant expressions.

"The group meetings and everything went off like usual," someone in the crowd mumbled.

"What about the boys? Was anybody acting strangely?" Amelia added, but was greeted with the same, almost fearful looks.

"Didn't you give some kid a tour yesterday morning?" someone spoke up to Amelia's left and she looked over to find Karofsky staring back at her. "We didn't have a new kid join us though, did we?"

Amelia shook her head. "His father wanted to get a look at the campus. Said he wanted to check out other locations before picking one for his son."

"What was the kid's name?"

Amelia sent a frown in Maria's direction. "I don't remember. Kirk something." She used her thumb and pointer finger to rub soothing circles along her temples trying to ward off an increasing headache. "Why?"

She sensed someone tense up in the circle that was gathered and turned to find that Sebastian, who was once staring off into space, was now sitting up straight in his seat and looking back at her with his complete attention.

"Kurt?" he asked, correcting her. "It wasn't Kurt Hummel?"

Amelia blinked at the young man. She tried to recall the name that she had written down in her planner on her desk, and shook her head in frustration. "Maybe, I'll have to check. Why?"

He ignored her question and turned his growing panicked eyes in Maria's direction. "The kids that escaped . . . Who – What were their names?"

Maria flipped through a few papers that were sitting in her lap. "We did a room check shortly after the incident occurred . . ." She paused as she found the page she was looking for. "Chandler Kiehl was the boy that attempted to escape, but we were able to apprehend. The others were Jeremiah Walters, Charlie Byrne, and Blaine Anderson."

The color drained from Smythe's face, and Amelia frowned in his direction. "Sebastian–"

"I should have mentioned it before, but . . . It didn't seem that important at the time and . . ."

"What? Stop babbling, and tell us what you know!" Amelia cried, irritation boiling inside her.

Smythe shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts before finally continuing in a low voice. "A couple days ago . . . I heard Blaine talking to a couple of the other kids about this boy he had been seeing before his dad dragged him here."

"Talking about romantic relations with another boy? I assume you took care of _that_ issue," Amelia noted, her face morphing into one of disgust at the image of two boys dating.

At the look, Smythe quickly nodded his head. "Of course. I took care of _that_."

Silence drifted back over the room, bringing the conversation to a stall.

"And . . ." Maria dragged out the word in the attempt to encourage Smythe to get them all back on topic.

Sebastian flinched at her icy tone. With a slight quiver in his voice, he added, "The boy that Blaine was seeing . . . He said his name was Kurt Hummel."

There was a moment where Amelia's face washed blank with confusion. The name did sound familiar to her ears, but was it really him? Admitting that the boy she had led around the campus was indeed Kurt Hummel meant declaring that she was somewhat responsible for this whole mess. She had allowed the Hummel family to play her, and it had resulted in _three_ of their boys escaping off the grounds. If word of this got out . . . Everything she had worked towards, the reputation of the camp . . . It would all disappear.

Her knuckles slowly turned white as she clenched the armrest of her chair tightly in her fists again, the decorative ends leaving imprints in the palm of her hands. She could feel herself beginning to break into a cold sweat.

No! She couldn't let it end like this. The only way to fix this problem, and gain back the camp's reputation would be to find and reinstate the boys that had managed to escape under her watch . . . along with the boy responsible for helping them succeeded. She had to find this _Kurt Hummel_ again, and when she did, she would make him regret ever coming across her path.

"I have a phone call to make," Amelia growled through her teeth before standing up and storming out of the meeting room.

* * *

Mr. Anderson sat at his desk in his home office typing away at his computer, or at least he was trying too.

The man leaned back in his chair as he ran a hand through his short, curly black hair. He was meant to be preparing for a big presentation he had to deliver in a couple days, but ever since he had caught _that boy_ making out with his kid he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. He may have been able to forget about the pale, scrawny kid who had screwed up his son if he hadn't had the nerve to show back up at his house a week later with his father, accusing him of child abuse.

Him? Abuse his son? Never.

Mr. Hummel was the one that seemed to be encouraging his son's sexuality. That sick and disgusting lifestyle . . . At least he was willing to do something in the attempt to help his son. What was Mr. Hummel doing?

He let out a heavy sigh as he swiveled his wheelable chair from side to side; his form of fidgeting.

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Pausing mid swivel, Mr. Anderson glared down at the landline that was resting near the corner of his desk. Stealing a quick glance back at his computer screen he noted the time. It was only a few minutes after eight o'clock in the morning.

"Hello?" he asked after retrieving the device, and was greeted by a woman's voice on the other end.

"Mr. Anderson? This is Amelia Banks from 'Path of Restoration'. Do you have a minute to talk?"

His eyebrows scrunched up in concern at the woman's tone. "What happened?" he demanded.

There was a short pause before, "We had a . . . an incident occurred the other day. A few of our kids managed to get off the campgrounds. Your son, Blaine, was one of the boys that escaped last night."

Mr. Anderson rested an arm on the desk in front of him as he leaned over the piece of furniture. "He escaped? How?"

"He had some help," the woman stated. "We believe a boy named Kurt Hummel might have been involved in helping the boys. I think you may know him?"

He felt anger boiling deep in his gut at the name. Of course Kurt would have something to do with this. Mr. Anderson sat up straighter in his chair, his muscles tightening in fury.

"You are telling me . . . that my son is with _that boy_ right now?" he growled.

There was another pause from her end. "Nothing like this has ever happened with us before, Mr. Anderson. Trust me, we are working on trying to fix the situation–"

"Fix the situation?! I sent my son to you not only to cure him of this . . . this sickness, but to keep him away from _that boy_ , and now you are telling me that not only do you not know where my kid is, but he is currently off somewhere _hooking up_ with that _boyfriend_ of his?!"

The stretch of silence that followed felt different then its previous occurrences. Instead of Mrs. Banks pausing to struggle with finding the right words to sooth the growing, agitated parent, Mr. Anderson sensed the woman was busy rallying herself up to take back control of the conversation.

"Look, Mr. Anderson, I understand you are upset. I assure you, we will find the boys and get them back under our care. The reason I'm calling is to gather more information on this boy that your son is with. Do you have any idea where they may have gone? What about Kurt's home address?"

The man let out an irritable groan. Typical. The workers at the camp screwed up, so they called him to help bail them out. Still, it would be nice to know that that Hummel kid would pay as well for screwing up his son's sexual tendencies in the first place. With an irritated sigh, Mr. Anderson pushed himself out of his desk chair and stormed out of his home office.

He knew his wife kept the McKinley High School student directory by the landline that was located in the kitchen. With any luck, the Hummel's boy would be listed along with the other seniors.

Strolling over to where the booklet rested on the counter, he picked it up and let his thumb glide smoothly across the edges of the paper as he quickly flipped through the book. In his haste, he bypassed the H's and had to turn back a couple pages before skimming his eyes down until he landed on the name he was looking for. Tapping his finger underneath the Hummel's address, one side of his mouth finally perked up in a sly smirk as he read-off what was written into the phone that was still pressed against his ear.

Kurt Hummel was going to regret ever trying to interfere into his family affairs.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 _Tuesday Continued_

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn his back from the glare of the sun that was pouring in through the window, only to find his arm knock against a form lying beside him on the bed. With a soft groan, he opened his eyes just wide enough for see the familiar face of his boyfriend sleeping peacefully next him. Suddenly, the memories of last night come flooding back to him.

Kurt showing up at the camp . . .

Alarms going off . . .

Counselors chasing them . . .

Burt driving him and his friends off the grounds . . .

Leaving Chandler behind . . .

He remembered Burt pulling the van into the hospital parking lot. A doctor had brought him back to check him out almost immediately, Kurt never leaving his side.

Rolling carefully back over onto his bandaged back, Blaine glanced around at the room he was in. The walls were white with a small TV mounted in one corner. Two windows stretched along the wall to his left. A couple comfy looking chairs sat in front of windows with a small round table resting between them. The sleeping forms of Charlie and Jeremiah laid in each. He didn't remember hearing them enter the room. The doctors must have allowed them in after he had falling asleep.

He couldn't help the soft sob that choked out of him at seeing the boys lying there. Chandler should be here too. Images of the young boy being tortured for his attempt at escaping flashed through the dark haired boy's head, and few tears escaped down his cheeks at the thought.

Turning back onto his side to face his boyfriend, Blaine rested a hand on the blonde's shoulder and shook him gently. Blaine watched as Kurt gradually came awake under his touch and the boy's bleary blue eyes searched their surroundings for a second before landing on his warmer brown hue.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked sounding tired. Shifting onto his side so he was facing him better, he reached a hand up to wipe away a couple of Blaine's tears. "What's wrong, baby? Does your back hurt?"

"A-A little, but . . . that's not what–" A sob prevented him from continuing.

Kurt gave him a sad smile as he slid his hand up from Blaine's cheek and buried it into his ungelled curls. "I like your hair like this," he whispered. "You should go without the gel more often."

Blaine couldn't help the small, chocked chuckle that escaped his lips at that, and few more tears ran down his face.

Kurt frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

As Blaine took a few seconds to organize his thoughts, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of his boyfriend's hand running comfortingly through his curls. Kurt couldn't usually do this when his hair was kept gelled down to his scalp. Maybe he should go occasionally without the gel, at least in front of Kurt.

"Chandler should be here," he finally said. "They are probably hurting him for his attempt to escape, and it's my fault he is now in that situation."

"It's not your fault," Kurt interrupted him.

Blaine shook his head. "I was the one that talked them into to coming with me," he insisted. "Whatever happens to them now . . . It is my fault. But it's not just that."

Kurt waited patiently for him to continue.

"What happens now?" Blaine gestured behind him in the direction where the boys were still napping. "Where are they supposed to go? They can't go home. Their families were the one's that sent them to that awful place to begin with. And I can't go home either. My dad . . . Just . . . What is going to happen to us now?"

"None of you are going back to your homes, Blaine. My dad already agreed that you three could bunk at our house for now. At least until we can figure something else out."

"And what about Amelia and the other counselors back at the camp?" Blaine continued as if Kurt hadn't spoken at all. "They are probably furious right now. What if–"

"Blaine, stop," Kurt stated firmly while keeping his voice down in an attempt to not awaken the other boys in the room. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

"How can you be so sure, Kurt?" Blaine cried. "You can't honestly think they will just let us go. Their parents will want to know where they are." He used his thumb to point back behind him in explanation. "They would have to track us down to insure they won't have angry parents coming after them."

Kurt rolled his eyes before mumbling to himself, "You would think they would have angry parents to deal with when their kids come home with torture marks on their skins." With a sigh, Kurt focused his attention back on his boyfriend and sent him a small smile as he brushed his thumb gentle across the boy's temple. "My dad said he was going to go and talk to the police this morning. That's probably where he is right now," he soothed. "What the counselors were doing at the camp . . . They were abusing you, Blaine, and all of the boys at that camp. The police will take care of it. They will get Chandler out, and the others as well. They aren't going to get away with it, honey. Trust me."

* * *

Getting up from his seat next to Rachel, Finn stepped up to stand in front of his fellow Glee club members. Most of the group was gathered before him; minus Kurt, Blaine, and oddly Puck.

"As I informed you yesterday, Kurt and his father discovered that Blaine had been sent off to a gay conversion camp. Well, last night, they were able to get him and a couple of the boys out. Blaine has been injured, and is currently in the hospital getting treated for his wounds. Kurt says _he_ will still be here to perform with us this weekend, but it doesn't sound like Blaine is going to be well enough by then."

"Is Blaine okay?" Tina voiced from the back row.

"He will be. He just needs time for his injuries to heal. He should be fine given time to rest and adjust to being out of that camp," Finn explained.

"We should do something for him," Mercedes added. "How long is he going to be in the hospital?"

"I know you are all concerned about Blaine, and we can definitely arrange to do something to cheer him up, but in the meantime we do still need to be prepared for Sectionals in a few days," Mr. Schuester noted coming up behind Finn and patted his shoulder gently, silently telling the boy to return to his seat. "Now, I've already talked to the students that I planned on giving lead roles to." Mercedes, Brittany, and Sam sent gleeful smiles towards each other, while Rachel pouted in her seat. "Finn? Have you had a chance to talk to Kurt about his contribution?"

"Not yet. He's been . . . kind of preoccupied lately. I'll talk to him about it tonight."

The teacher nodded in understanding.

Just then, Puck entered the room followed closely by a chubby girl with brown hair that ran a couple inches down past her shoulders.

"Guys, this Lauren Zizes," Puck announced when he had everybody's attention. "She has agreed to be our twelfth member for Sectionals."

* * *

After school, Finn went to the hospital to see Kurt and Blaine.

"Hey, dude," Finn said as he entered the room. "How are doing, Blaine?"

Propped up by a pillow on the bed, Blaine shrugged before wincing quietly. "Okay, I guess."

"Finn, that's Jeremiah and Charlie," Kurt introduced the two new kids. "Guys, this is my step-brother, Finn."

They nodded in greeting.

"Where's Burt?" Finn asked stepping farther into the room.

"He's talking to the doctors," Blaine explained. "They are saying I can probably leave the hospital tonight as long as I rest at home. Burt is looking over a few forms."

Finn nodded before taking a seat at the foot of the hospital bed. "I heard you wouldn't be able to perform with us this weekend. I know you were looking forward to it."

Blaine sent him a smirk. "It's okay. It's not like I won't have other chances to perform later."

"Perform where?" Jeremiah asked, stepping closer.

"Glee club competition," Kurt explained. "There are three performances every year. With Blaine's injuries, he's going to miss out on our first performance coming up."

"Speaking of which, Mr. Schue wanted me to talk to you about something," Finn said, turning towards his brother.

"What?"

"You know how Mr. Schue mentioned letting other kids have a chance to perform leads in this show? He wants to know if you would be interested in doing a solo."

As Finn watched Kurt's eyes light up at the news, he also took note of Blaine's proud smile that he turned towards his boyfriend.

"A solo? For Sectionals?" Kurt gushed, moving to place his feet on the tiled floor. "Are you serious?"

Finn nodded with a small smile on his face. "Mr. Schue thinks your ready. What do you think?"

"Yes!" Kurt cried jumping up from the bed. "Are you kidding? Of course I want it!" Suddenly, the boy paused in his excitement. As quickly as the smile had appeared on his face, a frown deepened onto his features. He stole a quick glance at Blaine huddled under the covers of his hospital bed before turning back to his brother. "I would love to, really, but . . . Blaine needs me and Sectionals is only a couple days away. I don't think I'll have the time–"

"Kurt."

The boy in question turned back to face Blaine and waited for the boy to continue.

"Kurt, it's fine. _I'm_ fine. I know how long you have been waiting for this kind of opportunity. You should take it."

"Are you sure? I mean, you just got back from experiencing something horrible. I should be here for you, making sure you are okay–"

"He'll be fine," Charlie spoke up from the other side of the bed. "Jeremiah and I are going to be staying at your house for awhile anyways. We can look after him for you while you are rehearsing if you want."

"And just because I can't perform with you, doesn't mean I can't watch from the audience this Saturday," Blaine added. "You should do it."

Blaine couldn't help the huge grin that grew on his face as his boyfriend's face once again lit up in excitement.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 _Wednesday_

Kurt had barely left Blaine's side after they had returned to his house from the hospital last night, and only hesitantly left for school in the morning after being assured that Jeremiah and Charlie would be fine watching him during the day. Jeremiah had to practically shove the boy out the front door after telling him countless times that they had everything under control. With a last promise that they would text him if any problems came up, Jeremiah slammed the door behind Kurt before returning to living room.

"Over-protective much?" Jeremiah grumbled as he fell back against the couch next to Charlie.

"He's just concerned," Blaine smiled, craning his neck to peek out the window and watched as his boyfriend climbed into his car. "Can you blame him after everything that's been happening?"

Jeremiah let out an annoyed sigh and turned up the volume on the television. "I guess not."

Charlie turned around in his seat to look out the window. Kneeling on the couch, he folded his arms along the top of the cushion and rested his chin on top. "Are the police really necessary? I feel like we're on house arrest."

Turning back to look out the window again from Burt's easy chair, Blaine spied the unmarked car that was still sitting on the other side of the street. The idea of Amelia or any of her co-workers coming after him and his friends still worried him, but knowing that the police officers where right outside did help his growing nerves a little.

Blaine gave a small shrug, being careful not to cause another wave a pain to shoot up his back. "I actually find it comforting."

"Really?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. He turned his head slightly to gaze at Blaine out of the corner of his eye, not lifting his chin from his arms. "It's not like Amelia or anyone from that camp knows we're here."

"Better safe than sorry," Jeremiah noted, setting the remote down on the table next to him.

Turning back around, Charlie slumped back into his spot on the couch and faced the TV. They sat in a comfortable silence as they watched the program that Jeremiah had selected for a few minutes until Charlie broke it.

"What do you think is happening to Chandler right now?" he asked slowly, hesitantly voicing the concern that they all shared.

Memories of his friend flashed through Blaine's mind. The fear in Chandler's eyes as the counselor's picked him up and started to haul him back towards the quad . . .

Avoiding his eyes, Blaine kneaded his hands together nervously in his lap. Swallowing the lump that was growing in his throat, he did his best to fight back the tears he felt pooling behind his eyes.

"I'm sure he's fine," Jeremiah spoke up after a moment, his voice sounding slightly wobbly.

* * *

"That's him," Karofsky noted, eyeing the blonde boy a few houses down as the kid got into a car parked in the driveway. "That was the kid Amelia showed around the campus a couple days ago."

"Kurt, huh?" Smythe eyed the car the boy had just climbed into, and huffed. "Designer clothes . . . coiffed hair . . . a bit of a feminine appearance." He turned his head to look at the man sitting behind the steering wheel, and tilted his head. "Doesn't exactly hide it well, does he?"

Karofsky kept his eyes glued to the dark Navigator as it pulled out of the driveway and slowly headed past them, and out of the neighborhood.

Smythe frowned as the muscular man sitting next to him hesitated in his seat. "What are you waiting for? The parents left about an hour ago, and that kid that helped them just left. The boys that escaped should be alone now. Aren't we going to . . . do something?"

Karofsky twisted his head just enough so that he could shoot an aggravated look at his partner before turning back to the street in front of him, and nodded in the direction of a white Ford Fusion that was parked across the street from the house that they were targeting.

"Those two men have been sitting there since before we got here."

"So?"

The next time Karofsky turned to look at him, the man was glaring at him through narrowed eyes along with a raised eyebrow.

Smythe's eyes widened slightly as the information came together in his head and he turned to lock his gaze on the white car. "You think they are watching the same house?"

"We're not moving yet," Karofsky continued, ignoring his question. "The boys have to leave the house at some point. We'll get them back soon enough."

* * *

Chandler curled himself into a tight ball trying to make himself as small as possible in the corner of his dark room. He couldn't remember how long he had been sitting like this. It felt like weeks since anyone had appeared in the entrance to his small bedroom. Not since the day the four of them had tried to escape from the camp.

Leaning his head back against the hard surface behind him, Chandler tried to ignore the growing hunger pains in his stomach. When was the last time they had even fed him?

Closing his eyes, he willed the memories to return to him, just to have something else to dwell on beside his empty stomach.

 _He didn't know what he had tripped on. A stick maybe . . . or a rock, but the next thing he knew he was laying face first on the grassy hillside. His knees and the palms of his hands stung as they made contact with the hard ground._

 _He must have made some kind of noise as he fell, attracting Blaine's attention to his_ _predicament._ _The boy had called his name and when he had looked up, he found the dark headed kid that he had quickly started to consider a friend, had stopped in his sprint down the hill and took a couple steps back towards him as if he was planning on coming back to help him up. But the other boy stopped him; Jeremiah._

 _He couldn't hear what the older boy was saying to Blaine, but whatever it was had caused him to hesitate in approaching him, still on his hands and knees in the grass._

 _The next thing he knew, hands where gripping his shoulders from behind him. Twisting back and forth in the grip, he tried to shake off the arms but their hold was too strong. He opened his mouth to scream out for Blaine to help him, but with the alarm going off around them and the sounds of the counselors screaming, he wasn't sure if the boy could hear him or not._

 _A mixture of fear and betrayal twisted in his gut as Jeremiah and Blaine both turned away from him and continued their sprint down the hill towards the awaiting car._

 _He continued to cry out and squirm in his captures' arms as the men dragged him back to the housing buildings and threw him back into his room. The slamming of the door behind him and the loud snap of the lock being clicked into place was the last things he heard before being left on his own in the dark room. Terror coursed through his veins as a few tears escape down his cheeks and a loud sob was wrenched free from his throat._

Chandler's heart still ached in his chest whenever he thought about that look on Blaine's face that he had on the last time he had seen him . . . but he hadn't come back for him. He had left him here. With these sick counselors that would do who-knows-what to him for attempting to leave with his three _so-called_ friends.

Resentment gripped his stomach as he tried to focus on something else . . . anything else, but it was hard to fight off his growing anger and frustration at being left behind when he was so terrified about what was going to happen to him next. He almost wished someone _would_ finally come and open the door to dish out whatever punishment was coming his way, just to give him something else to focus on for a while.

Resting his chin back on top of his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to hold back the sob that was knotting in his throat. His _'friends'_ weren't worth his tears.

* * *

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